


Your Light in the Mist

by maevecurrywrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, M/M, NSFW, Profanity, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 330,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevecurrywrites/pseuds/maevecurrywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: Mature, for erotica and adult themes.
> 
> Triggers/Warnings: Posted on a per chapter basis.
> 
> FYI: This work is fanfiction. It contains both Original Characters and Alternate/Parallel Universe versions of real, actual people. A/PU Characters may be written with personalities the reader may be familiar with or as an entirely different entity, occasionally portrayed in an a very unflattering manner and cast as an antagonist/villain. This in no way reflects the author’s personal opinion of the REAL, ACTUAL person and should not be construed as such. If this type of A/PU methodology disturbs you in any way, shape or form this story is likely not appropriate reading material for you. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr, here: http://maevecurrywrites.tumblr.com/yourlightinthemist.

The weather in Hawaii is everything they say it is…absolute perfection. I would have preferred to visit in January as opposed to June, fleeing the abysmal cold that is the norm in New York City, but as I wasn’t on the conference planning committee I hadn’t any choice in the matter. After two twelve hour days of being cooped up in a conference room at the Courtyard Marriot Kaua'i, all I wanted to do was plop my ass down on a lounge chair, stick my toes in the warm sand and think about anything other than social media marketing and implementation and…gods, please make it stop. I rolled over in the king size bed and squinted at the digital click. Nope, still a big blur. I fumbled for my glasses, shoving them roughly in place, and tried again. It read 7:23 AM.

 

“Well, fuck me. So much for the sunrise ceremony on the beach.” My voice echoed in the 528 square foot room, which was nearly as large as my studio apartment back home. Since it was technically a ‘free’ day for me, I had opted to not set the alarm and instead rely on my internal version to ensure I was up in time. Apparently my body clock was still off kilter from the time difference. I padded across the room and opened the louvered doors to the balcony, closing my eyes as I let the ocean breeze wash over me. 

 

“Mmm, someone needs to remind me why I continue to live in New York, because I can’t think of a single reason right now.” Talking to myself was a lifelong habit, most likely the result of being an introvert. I spent an inordinate number of hours interacting with clients every day, pretending to be an extrovert…when I wasn’t working, all I wanted was to be alone. If I didn’t allow myself to slip into my own world whenever circumstances permitted I’d quickly become unable to function properly, often lashing out at those around me. And that’s not exactly good for business.

 

I raised my arms above my head, stretching to work the morning kinks out…and then I remembered that I was standing on an oceanfront balcony one story above a public beach clad only in a t-shirt. “Shit. Say aloha to my lady bits, Coconut Beach.” I retreated into the room, wondering if anyone had witnessed my R-rated maneuver. I pulled the threadbare t-shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor as I walked toward the bathroom. I opened the faucet, pushed in the shower knob and hit the temperature memory button I’d configured after checking in…what a luxurious convenience THAT was. I set my glasses as far back as possible on the counter to reduce the risk of knocking them off when I towel dried my hair. As I stepped over the tub rim, careful not to trip, I realized that I had neglected to shut the balcony doors. I face palmed and groaned, then glanced at myself in the mirror. “Congratulations, Maude. You’ll soon have no dignity left to salvage.”

****************************************************************

I frowned at the clock as I dressed, wondering if it was possible to trek 25 miles to the other side of the island to the Talk Story bookstore and be back in time for the Kauai Museum’s ‘Ōlelo Mai Nā Kūpuna Mai at 10:30. Traditional Hawaiian lore as told by a Kahuna wasn’t high on my list of ‘things I need to do in Hawaii’ but I knew lots of conference attendees would be there, providing me with a perfect opportunity to schmooze. My frown turned into a grimace at the thought of having to use my tablet as a reader all week and I decided the schmoozing could wait until Wednesday’s Hula Class, which would probably be vastly more entertaining. Despite my love for tech in all of its forms, nothing would ever compare to the feel of a book in my hands. There’s just something incredibly sensuous about the weight, the texture of the paper, the sound of the page turning…a representation of a physical connection between the author and the reader. Work led me to a multitude of locations, and for every stop that was new to me I made it a point to purchase a book I hadn’t read, inscribing the place and time inside the front cover. So much better than picking up a tacky souvenir that served no real purpose, and I loved browsing my bookshelves and knowing the exact moment when I began my journey into a particular story. I sighed, mulling over the fact that my apartment was bursting at the seams with books and what that said about the state of my affairs. Of lack thereof, as it were. I strapped on my Birkenstocks, put my unruly reddish-brown hair up in a ponytail and made for the door, giving myself a quick pat down to make sure I had my car keys, cell phone, wallet and room key tucked away in my hiking shorts. Yep, good to go. I watched the door close behind me and started toward the single flight of stairs that exited to the parking lot.

 

My phone rang just as I was approaching the Jeep Wrangler I had rented. It was army green, an older model…perfect, the sales rep said, for seeing the ‘real’ Kaua’i. I’ve always loved Jeeps, so he got no argument from me, though I had no intention of taking it off-roading. I could too easily envision myself getting it stuck in the mud and requiring a tow truck. Or an ambulance. “Pass”, I muttered while tapping the answer button on my phone.

 

“Maude Gallagher, how may I help you?’

 

“May I speak with Ms. Gallagher, please?” Though I did the vast majority of the work alone, my official company name was Maude Gallagher, LLC and it was a common occurrence for people to assume that someone other than me would be answering the phone. 

 

“This is Ms. Gallagher. But please, call me Maude.” Ten seconds of silence followed.

 

“So sorry, Ms. Ga…Maude. I’m afraid I didn’t recognize your voice. Luke Windsor here, of Prosper PR. I attended your seminar on how to use social media to enhance client reputation Saturday. Which was wonderful, by the way. It’s something I’ve been involved with for a number of years, but you presented some exceptional ideas I plan on implementing immediately once I’m back on the home front.”

 

Luke Windsor…I knew the name, but couldn’t quite put my finger on any of Prosper’s clientele, and his English accent was doing little to help me focus. I made a mental note to Google him when I had a moment. “Thank you, Luke. It’s always a pleasure to know that an attendee found the information I provide to be of use. I appreciate you calling to let me know.”

 

“Oh, yes, very useful, and you’re quite welcome. But, actually, I was calling to see if you were free to meet at some point today or tomorrow to discuss a client of mine who’s been struggling with his social media presence lately. It’s a bit complicated as we’re close friends as well, and on this particular topic we don’t see eye to eye. At all. I think listening to a neutral party with your level of expertise may help him understand my perspective and perhaps he’ll permit me to do my job properly again.” He sighed audibly. “My apologies, Maude. That wasn’t very professional of me. I’m afraid I’m a tad…frustrated.”

 

“No need to apologize, Luke. Social media PR is pretty much impossible to pull off with any modicum of success when a client is unwilling to follow through, and it’s incredibly frustrating when the person who hired you is the one standing in the way of you getting the job done. I’d be happy to sit down and go over things. What day works best for you?”

 

“Actually, over lunch today at 2:00 PM would be ideal. Does that suit your schedule?” I closed my eyes and lowered my chin to my chest. So much for my ass in that lounge chair. But, you can’t expect to reap the benefits of being your own boss without accepting the sacrifices it demands as well.

 

“That will be fine, Luke. You pick the location that you’re most comfortable with and text me the address later, please.”

 

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this on such short notice, Maude. My client and I aren’t in the same place very often unless it’s a press event and it’s lovely of you to accommodate us. When I text the details I’ll send along the info you’ll need so you can forward me an invoice.”

 

“You’re very welcome. And, initial consultations are always free of charge.” Not many people in my field were willing to do anything for free, but I’d always felt that it was worth the gamble and helped me stand out of the pack. Often, the potential client would wind up paying for drinks and meals, so it wasn’t a total loss.

 

He paused briefly. “Well, I hope you’ll at least allow me to pick up the tab for lunch, then?” I laughed.

 

“If you insist. But be warned, I’m not a dainty salad and water kind of gal.” He laughed in turn. “See you at 2:00 PM, Luke. I look forward to meeting you and your client.”

 

“See you then, Maude. And thanks again!” I tapped the end call button and checked the time. It was 8:45 now, and after stopping at the Passion Bakery Café for breakfast it would probably be 9:30 or so. According to my directions, it would take around 45 minutes to get to Talk Story and another 45 for my return trip. I’d need to change and primp a bit when I got back to the hotel, but I’d probably be okay as long as I was out the door of the bookstore at 12:30. Two hours seemed like plenty of time to poke around, but I often got lost in such places. I set my phone alarm for 12:15, just in case. I climbed into the Jeep, intending to plug my phone into the auxiliary jack so I could shuffle some tunes for the ride. Much to my horror, not only was there no auxiliary jack, there was no stereo, period. Damn, how could I have not checked that? I pushed in the clutch and the brake, turned the key, put it in gear and made a left out of the lot towards the Passion Bakery Café. My stomach growled continuously in anticipation of my much needed breakfast. I looked down and patted my belly. “Well, it’s not Beethoven, but I guess it will have to do.”


	2. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast. Books. Tom and Maude meet for the first time. This has been an incredibly surreal experience…some of my favorite authors are reading my story. My mind is blown. But I’ve got 3500 words here for you, which I hope you enjoy. Feedback is welcome - it’s an amazing feeling to know that you’re out there!

Breakfast at the Passion Bakery Café did not disappoint. I opted for a bacon, egg and home fries sandwich on grilled Artisan Italian flatbread, fully intending to take my time and savor every single bite while sitting at a picnic table across the street in the park. Instead, I found myself wolfing it down like the barbarian I am while sitting on the front bumper of the Jeep, wiping my hands on my shorts because I had forgotten to grab some napkins. I tended to eat most of my meals while standing when out and about, especially when I was home in New York. At least I had managed to sit down for this one…and it still tasted amazing despite my hastiness.

Brushing the crumbs off my shirt, I headed back into the store to use the restroom and clean myself up, stopping at the counter on the way out to thank the proprietor again for my delicious breakfast. The Reese’s peanut butter cup peanut butter cookies that were lurking in the countertop case kept staring at me, so I bought half a dozen, along with another cup of Earl Grey tea. Ah, the caffeine and sugar combo…absolutely essential to my making it through the day without dozing off and/or slapping someone. As I was climbing into the Jeep a twenty-something local approached me. He was incredibly tan, and shirtless. There was SO much shirtless here on Kaua’i…and not the kind of shirtless one normally encounters. This was…better. I realized he was speaking and raised my eyes to meet his gaze, hoping he hadn’t noticed me gawking and biting my lower lip.

“Ma’am, I just wanted to let you know that your tonneau cover is comin’ off in the back there.” He pointed to the cargo area. I arched my brows, which he seemed to mistake for confusion when it was actually my expression of displeasure at him calling me ma’am.

He held his hands up as if to reassure me. “No worries, I’ll fix it for you.” He moved behind the vehicle, tinkered with some straps and walked back up the driver side door. “All set. You gotta make sure those things stay tight, else it can blow off on the highway and onto a windshield or something. Which would be a total bummer.”

Apparently I wasn’t just old, I was old and stupid. I knew exactly what a tonneau cover was, as well as how to put one on. The rental company didn’t normally provide them, but I’d made special arrangements to have it installed. Shoving my indignation aside, I shifted my focus to the way the sun seemed to reflect off his abs. I took a deep breath, deciding to play along with being an idiot to spare his feelings. He was, after all, only trying to help.

“Wow, thank you so much…I had no idea that could happen! I’m so glad you noticed…I would never want to be the reason for someone getting hurt.” I gave him my 1000 megawatt smile. “Here, have a cookie.” I held out the open bag for him.

He peeked inside, reaching in to grab one as soon he spotted a Reese’s peanut butter cup. He bit into it immediately. “Mmmm, these are the best. Mahalo, Ma’am.”

I snuck a final peek at his abs as the Jeep roared to life. “No…thank YOU!” He waved as I drove away, and I couldn’t decide whether I was more annoyed at being called ma’am, my resorting to ogling young men because I was so sexually frustrated, or giving away one of my cookies. I turned the Jeep onto the entrance ramp for Highway 50. The wind picked up as my speed increased, and I scowled when I caught a whiff of the yumminess that was waiting for me in the Passion Bakery bag. “The cookie. Definitely the cookie.”

***********************************************  
The Talk Story bookstore houses the largest collection of new, used and out-of-print titles on Kaua’i. The building itself, according to what I read online, had been built in 1932 and was previously occupied by the Yoshiura General Store. I also read that the total number of books in stock exceeded 100,000, hence my willingness to drive 25 miles to pay it a visit. Yes, I could have found something to read closer to the hotel…but, ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND BOOKS. Seriously. As soon as I walked through the door, I knew two hours wasn’t going to be anywhere near enough to do it justice. Lovely red walls, books stacked floor to ceiling, tables and chairs tucked into nooks here and there all made me feel like I’d found the REAL paradise on the island. My phone vibrated in my pocket, invading my bliss and snapping me back to reality. It was a text from Luke.

Maude - reservations for 2:00 PM at Kauai Pasta, 4-399B Kuhio Hwy Kappa 96746. Less than a mile from the Marriott. I may be late, let’s meet at the bar. Hope you like Italian. –L

I checked out their website before I replied. Beautiful place, already know what I’m having. Excellent choice. Are there actually people who DON’T like Italian? Will wait at the bar. Looking forward to meeting you. -M

As I put the phone back in my pocket I spotted a young woman walking towards me. Her straight, jet-black hair hung well past her shoulders, so shiny it appeared to be glowing under the fluorescent fixtures. I’ve always envied women with straight hair that stayed nice and neat and exactly where it was supposed to. If I left mine unbound and didn’t add styling products I generally bore a strong resemblance to Cousin It after a few hours. She stopped in front of me and smiled.

“Aloha, and welcome to Talk Story. May I help you find anything?”

I glanced down at her t-shirt in search of a name tag. It was black, with a greyscale image of Loki from Thor: The Dark World printed directly across the chest area. I imagined how my rather ample bosom would distort his face and smirked. 

“Thank you, Alani, but I think I’ll just browse around for a while. Love your shirt, by the way.”

She pulled at the hem as she looked down at it, then back up at me. “So sorry, I forgot to tell you my name because ohmygod you know he’s in town, right? We’re all so excited and our boss said we could wear these instead of our usual store shirts just in case he stops in. And he might because he’s really into books and stuff. Can you imagine? If he comes in here I swear, I might really actually die right on the spot but that would be awful because I totally need to know how he smells before I die.” Her hands had closed into fists at her sides and she was practically vibrating with excitement.

I tilted my head to the side, wondering if I had wandered into an alternate universe wherein Loki was real until it dawned on me that she must be talking about Tom Hiddleston. I remembered reading that Skull Island was filming on Kaua’i and that he was attached to the project, but had no clue it was happening already. His appearance at San Diego ComicCon in 2013 was the stuff of legend in the PR community…showing up not only in costume but in character? The social media explosion had been epic, and images from the event were still circulating regularly. Too bad Hiddleston hadn’t taken advantage of it across his own SM platforms; instead, he seemingly chose to pull back and reduce his online presence significantly shortly thereafter. I frequently cited him as an example in my presentation entitled ‘Social Media – You’re Doing it Wrong’. His publicist should be fired. Lance something or other? I could picture him clearly but his name just wouldn’t come to me. I shrugged and turned my attention back to Alani.

“Wow, no, I didn’t know that. Well, I certainly hope you get to meet him. Sounds like you’re quite a fan.”

She nodded emphatically. “Oh, I totally LOOOOOOVVVVE him and I’m so glad it’s summer vacation otherwise I’d be stuck in school and if I he showed up when I wasn’t here…” she hugged herself, shuddering. “Anyway, if you need help with something come find me, okay?” 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Thank you, I’ll do just that.” They say enthusiasm is contagious. I’d agree, but only if they meant it in a ‘it’s a plague that needs to be contained and eliminated forthwith’ sort of way. I frowned as I considered that perhaps my negativity was rooted in the fact that it had been a very long time since I’d last felt genuinely passionate about someone. I sighed heavily. Suck it up and move on, Maude. The books are waiting.

***********************************************  
I nearly missed it the first time through, but the bright green dustjacket caught my eye at just as I turned to walk away. There it was, a first edition copy of ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, published in 1970 by Harper & Row. And it was beautiful, in good condition, its only flaw being a slight musty odor emanating from the pages. I’d started reading the classics a few years back to tide me over while waiting for new material from my favorite contemporary authors, and this was the one I had enjoyed most so far. The duality the author captured by including day to day struggles of rural living as well as fantastical mythologies struck such a cord with me, and the ending is actually listed amongst the 100 best last lines from novels. I wondered why it was out in the open on a shelf, as copies in mint condition sold for as much as $1800. I flipped it over to find the price. Ten bucks. I glanced around furtively and held it gently to my chest like Gollum, resisting the urge to whisper ‘My preccccsssssssiouss’. Collecting first editions of books I especially loved was one of my hobbies, but I only allowed myself to purchase those I found ‘in the wild’. Buying them online just wasn’t as thrilling as stumbling upon them purely by chance. I quickly moved to the K section to see if I’d get lucky twice in one day and find a first edition of Stephen King’s ‘The Gunslinger’. I had been looking for it for years and it had become my proverbial white whale. No dice, but I did snag a copy of his newest, ‘Finders Keepers’. Perfect for reading on the beach. I rolled my eyes. As if I was ever actually going to get to the beach.

By the time I finished browsing I had seven books in my arms, which seemed just a teeny bit excessive for the remainder of my week on the island. The first two I had chosen were definite buys, so I set the other five on the table and concluded that I could only choose one of them if I didn’t want to have to pay extra for my baggage on the trip home. Remembering Gordon Clark reading it in an episode of Halt and Catch Fire pushed me to pick ‘Neuromancer’ by William Gibson. I was busy congratulating myself on making such a quick decision when my phone alarm began blaring, scaring the hell out of me.

“Shit, how is it 12:15 already?” I silenced it quickly, thankful that no one was in my immediate area to hear the racket I was making, then gathered up my pile of books. While returning the rejected novels to their proper spots, I heard footsteps in the stacks. They grew increasingly louder as the person came closer, finally stopping directly behind me. I counted out ten seconds as I waited for the person to speak. Nothing. I shook my head, irritated that someone would walk up behind me and just lurk there silently. Not to mention it was creepy as fuck, AND it had totally harshed my book mellow. I spun around, intending to give Silent Stranger a piece of my mind but suddenly my brain and my mouth completely disconnected as I discovered that Silent Stranger was a.) male and b.) positively beautiful.

His face was partially hidden by the NY Yankees cap pulled way down over his forehead, but his jawline was stunning, lips a bit thin but well suited to his face. Aristocratic nose. The tacky black and white Hawaiian shirt he was wearing didn’t do his light complexion any favors, though the open buttons showcased his neck and collarbones. I had a sudden urge to know what it would taste like if I licked him there. I shook my head again to clear it, at the same time noting his baggy khaki board shorts and filthy slip on Vans. For some reason the shoes rang a bell for me and my gaze quickly traveled back to his face. He had raised his head a bit, just enough so I could see his eyes. They were still shadowed by the bill of his cap, but I recognized them nonetheless. And they looked slightly panicked. I watched his jaw clench briefly before he spoke, forcing a smile.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Henry Jones. Someone from the Kaua’i Museum book store should have called over about an hour ago to reserve a copy of ‘Kaua`i The Separate Kingdom’ by Edward Joesting for me. They were out of stock and I needed it today for a project I’m working on.” He began shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands in his pockets. My brow furrowed and I wondered why he hadn’t gone right to the desk if he wanted to remain relatively anonymous. I took a step forward and leaned around the corner. Not only was Alani at the desk in her Loki shirt, but four other employees were there as well. All women, all proudly wearing their Loki shirts. I looked back at him and could tell by his stance he was waiting to see if I’d out him or not.

“Let me check on that for you, Dr. Jones. You just wait here and I’ll be right back.” He moved closer to the shelves and out of their direct line of sight. I took my three books and headed for the desk. Alani greeted me as I approached.

“Hi there again. Gosh, do you need help? I’m so sorry…the girls and I were just talking because someone on Twitter said someone saw Tom Hiddleston get out of a car near here.” They were all grinning from ear to ear, unaware that he was only twenty feet away, standing right in their store. Using Indiana Jones as an alias. Part of me felt bad that they’d miss out on meeting their idol, but from what I knew of him Tom always made time for his fans when he could, so if he was anxious about interacting today it must be with good reason.

“No worries, I found everything I was looking for. I’m also here to pick up a book for Dr. Jones, please.” She bent down to look under the counter, popping up and waving it at me when she located it.

“Here you are ma’am.” My turn for jaw clenching. “Cash or credit?” I handed her my credit card and paid for the lot. She thanked me for my purchase and went back to chatting animatedly with her co-workers. I headed back to the stacks to see if the good doctor was still in the house. He stared at me in disbelief as I handed him his book, eyes wide as if in awe. After looking me up and down, he covered his face with his free hand for a moment, then let it drop to his side as his gaze met mine.

“You don’t work here, do you?” This time the smile was genuine.

“No, Indy, I’m afraid I don’t,” I smirked, then turned and walked towards the exit.

He caught up and cut in front of me, paused to hold the door for me behind him, passed me again, then finally stopped directly in front of me a few feet down from Talk Story. I raised an eyebrow at him when he turned to face me. I was rewarded with a huge grin.

“And I’m afraid I must confess that I am not, in fact, Indiana Jones,’ he placed his free hand over his heart as he spoke.

I nodded. “I’m aware, Mr. Hiddleston.”

“You DO know who I am.” His eyes narrowed slightly and he moved his hand to his hip.

I shook my head. “I know your work and I’m familiar with your public persona, but who YOU are? I haven’t the slightest idea.” His hand slid down to his stomach.

“Well then, perhaps you’d like to find out?” He leaned in, bending down towards my face. I shrugged.

“Why would I want to do that?” He was momentarily speechless, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. I could see his wheels turning as he leaned in even closer.

“Because it might allow me the pleasure of finding out who YOU are and, to be honest, I’ve never wanted to discover anything else quite so badly.” He was mere inches from my face, and he smelled of pine and sweat and…everything male. Very, very male. Keep your shit together, Maude. Be cool. I rolled my eyes and huffed.

“Good lord, you are SO damn smooth, aren’t you?” He threw back his head and laughed. My phone alarm went off again…I had set it to ring again at 12:25 just in case. “It’s been fun, but if I don’t get on the road right now I’m going to be incredibly late for an appointment.” I tried to walk past him, but he blocked my way again. He had his phone in his hand.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me your name and number?” I said nothing. “What you did for me back there was incredibly kind, and I’d love to thank you properly. A cup of coffee, perhaps?” He got down on his knees, staring up at me with puppy dog eyes. “I’m not averse to begging.”

Not a bit of this was making sense to me, and the conflict that it was causing between logical, stoic, love-is-for-suckers you’re better off alone Maude and he’s so hot plus it’s been a thousand years since we were properly laid Maude was making my head spin. The latter Maude won by a landslide.

“Make it tea and I’m in. Name’s Maude. 212-222-5555. And I really need to get going.” I walked around him and down to the Jeep. He ran after me, watching me climb in and start the engine.

“I have an appointment today as well, but I’ll be calling as soon as I’m finished, if that’s alright.” He leaned in the open window and sniffed. “What is that smell?”

I sighed, grabbed the bag of cookies and handed it to him. “Reese’s peanut butter cup peanut butter cookies. Help yourself.”

He pulled one out and took a huge bite, passing the bag back to me. The look of rapture on his face almost made me blush. “Gods, this is spectacular.” I rolled my eyes again. Soon I’d have a migraine from all the rolling.

He waved, cookie in hand, as I pulled away. I saw in my rear-view that the women from Talk Story had begun walking towards him. He ducked quickly into a black sedan and headed off in the opposite direction. I silently cursed my incredible work ethic and turned back onto Highway 50, speeding back to the Marriott. The feel of the Kaua’i sun and the salty ocean breeze my on my face was glorious, and I wondered if he would actually call or if the universe was just fucking with me yet again. I figured eating the rest of the cookies would be the perfect distraction. Plus, then there’d be none left for me to give away so carelessly. Totally win-win.


	3. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lunch meeting, part one. I decided to split it up because it was quickly approaching 4K words and I felt like I could go on with this for DAYS. Thankfully I found a perfect place to stop. So I can, like, eat some food and use the restroom. :P Hope you enjoy, and my heartfelt thanks for all the wonderful feedback

My phone clock read 1:21 when I pulled into the hotel parking lot. Never had 25 miles seemed so…far. I was at the tail end of a line of traffic following what appeared to be a tour group in two full size passenger vans. I wasn’t able to see the tour company information from my vantage point, but I wished them ill all the same. I belted out a ‘YEEEESSSSS!’ when they turned off and headed towards Kahili Mountain Park, thrusting my fist in the air so forcefully that I was reasonably sure I had pulled something in my shoulder. In order to make it to Kauai Pasta on time I’d need to leave in less than 30 minutes. I hefted myself out of the Jeep, grabbed my books, and shut the door behind me. In addition to the tonneau cover, I had requested that the rental company leave the doors in place. Most people prefer them off, but I found seeing pavement zooming by and knowing a cloth belt was the only thing keeping me from instant death to be a smidge disconcerting.

While hustling up the stairs, I fished my room keycard out of my pocket. I attempted to use my left hand to swipe it through the lock, but wound up dropping it on the carpet instead. As I leaned over to pick it up my balance wavered and my left foot shot forward, propelling the keycard right through the crack under the door. I remained in that position for a brief moment, mouth agape. Standing upright, I rested my forehead on the door and began swearing as quietly as possible.

“Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck that fucking keycard in particular. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.” Taking a deep breath, I turned around and booked back down the steps and made for the front desk. Though I asked for two cards when checking in, I had only been given one and had neglected to go back for the spare because, you know, why would I ever actually need an extra keycard?! The clerk gave me major side eye, looking me up and down and apparently deciding that what I was wearing didn’t jive with her vision of an Executive Oceanfront Suite guest. She insisted I show her my driver’s license, my billing credit card and accompanied me back to the room to verify my story in person, walking at a snail’s pace. She swiped the extra keycard, opening the door with a smug look on her face, as if she expected the real guests to run into the hall screaming about an attempted burglary. I felt like slapping her repeatedly. When she saw the keycard on the floor she bent at the knees and quickly swooped it up. She turned to look at me, smugness replaced with a grade A flush of embarrassment.

“I am terribly sorry for any inconvenience, Ms. Gallagher. The security of our guests is a top priority and I am requ…” I cut her off with a wave.

“I appreciate you taking precautions and completely understand your perspective, but escorting me to my room after I provided you with proper identification was completely out of line. In the future you may want to consider that the clothing a person chooses to wear is not always indicative of their bank account balance. It appears that my perception of Hawaii as a haven for more casual attire was incorrect. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I’m running incredibly late for an appointment.” She sheepishly handed me both keycards.

“An additional keycard should have been provided for you during the check in process. Again, I am so very sorry for any inconvenience caused and…” I turned around and entered the room. It was 1:40. I set my books on the desk while walking to the balcony to close the doors, then began whipping off my clothes as I dashed for the bathroom. I evaluated the state of my appearance as I looked in the mirror. I had planned on showering again, but doing the full monty seemed out of the question at this point. I guffawed as I thought of the movie that bore the same name, remembering the free show I had put on earlier in the day.

I bowed to my reflection. “Thank you, thank you very much. I’ll be here all week.” I decided that if I didn’t wash my hair I could totally pull this off. I hopped in, got the water going and suddenly the world went fuzzy. For a moment I thought I might be having a stroke, but as it turned out it was just my glasses fogging up. Because I had forgotten to take them off. Again. I reached out, set them gently on the top of the toilet tank and continued with my warp speed soaping.

**************************************************  
I stood in front of the wardrobe, dripping all over the carpet as a hastily tried to dry myself off. I groaned. “What the ever loving fuck should I wear?” Normally this wasn’t even remotely an issue for me…I chose things quickly and with confidence. Today, my mind was blown, and all I wanted to do was hide out and read one of my books. And, I was loathe to admit, wait to see if Tom would actually call.

“Maude. Meeting. Money. PICK SOMETHING!” I spotted a black tank dress, one of my favorite summer pieces. The silver grommet edging along the neckline was just enough to cross it over from ‘beach cover-up’ to ‘business casual’. Plus, I had the perfect gladiator style sandals to match it. I couldn’t remember if I’d shaved my armpits this morning, so I lifted my arm to do a quick check. Yep. Golden.

I dragged my underwear up my legs, sighing as they got stuck on my still-wet ass and wiggling around until they snapped into place. I stared at the bra I had put out on the dresser. What’s worse than putting on underwear when your skin is wet? That’s right… putting on a bra. I had never mastered the art of hooking them behind me, and front closure bras didn’t really get along with my double D’s, so I had always put mine on backwards and slid it around. It was as nightmarish as I anticipated, and I thought there might be rug burn on my ribcage, but the girls were tucked safely away. I pulled the dress over my head, tied up my sandals and started putting my essentials and other items I’d specifically need for the meeting in my messenger bag. I grinned when I saw the time…1:55. If I couldn’t make it one mile down the road in five minutes, it was time to give up on humanity. And myself. I slung the bag over my shoulder, grabbed the Jeep keys and was headed out the door when it occurred to me that I hadn’t done a blessed thing with my hair.

I turned on the ridiculously bright bar light in the bathroom to survey the damage, removing the tie holding it in place. It fell to my shoulders in a pouf of waves that stood out a solid inch from my head, even after a brushing. “Damn. Gonna have to wear it up.” I put it in a ponytail again, stepping back to see if it worked with the dress. I frowned. Something was missing. I rifled through my accessory bag, pulling out my black tourmaline necklace. It was raw crystal, suspended horizontally with two silver bands. And it was perfect.

*************************************************  
I checked my phone as I pulled into the Kaua’i Pasta parking lot – 2:06. Damn. I was one of those irritating always-five-minutes-early people and tardiness was one of my biggest pet peeves. As I walked into the restaurant I considered that if that was the case, technically I should be totally pissed at myself. Sighing, I determined that I’d have all evening to berate myself and feel like a failure. For now, I needed to shake off all the day’s chaos and focus on business. If I was fortunate, Luke would be running more than a few minutes late.

The hostess greeted me as I approached her station. “Welcome to Kaua’i Pasta. Party of one?”

I shook my head. “Reservation, under the name Windsor.”

She checked her list. “Mr. Windsor has yet to arrive…would you prefer to wait at your table or the bar?”

“I’ll wait at the bar, thanks.” Excellent…he’d never know I hadn’t been on time. I took a seat near the front of the house, hoping to be able to hear Luke speaking to the hostess when he arrived so he wouldn’t catch me in the middle of doing last minute prep before our meeting. I had a semi-decent view of the street from where I was, but that was of little use since I had not the slightest idea what he looked like. I ordered an iced tea from the bartender and pulled out my tablet. Sixty-seven emails required my attention, including one from the conference coordinators. They wanted to know if I’d be willing to add another block of my lecture tomorrow because the one scheduled for Wednesday was full and the overage was significant enough to warrant it. Apparently I was in high demand. And wasn’t supposed to spend any time enjoying the beach. I typed up my reply granting them permission to move forward, hit send and had just opened my browser to do my due diligence on Prosper PR when I spotted movement on the sidewalk out of the corner of my eye. Looking up from my tablet, I turned my full attention to the window, and there he was. Tom Hiddleston, engaged in a very animated conversation with his male companion, heading right for the entrance of Kaua’i Pasta.

“You have GOT to be shitting me.” I clamped my hand over my mouth quickly and glanced around to see if anyone had heard me. The hostess was away from her station, and if any of the other patrons had noticed they didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe they were just used to crazy people blurting out profanity at random intervals. My brow furrowed as I wondered what, exactly, were the actual mathematical odds of us turning up in the same place not once, but TWICE on the same day?

As they walked into the restaurant the first thing I noticed was that he’d changed his clothes, looking positively delicious in khaki cargo pants and a black V-neck T-shirt. Same shoes, though. Ugh, what do those things SMELL like? My nose crinkled at the thought. I shook my head and gave his companion the once-over…burgundy polo shirt, tan dress pants, dark brown deck shoes. I only caught a quick glimpse of his face, but speculated that he may be an actor as well. I was certain I’d seen him somewhere before. I considered going over to say hello, but opted to stay put because I thought it would be rather rude to interrupt. Plus, who knew what I might pick up while eavesdropping?

“Tom, I’m thrilled you had such a meaningful encounter with the bookstore woman. I really am. But this meeting is crucial and there is no way I’m letting you off the hook so you can go find her. Try and focus on the matter at hand for a change, for the love of Christ. I know you’re opposed to everything I suggest, which is why I decided to involve a third party. If you still feel the same way afterward, I’ll accept your decision and we’ll move on as best we can. All I ask is that you be fully present for the duration here. You are capable of doing that, aren’t you?” He leaned in towards Tom and poked a finger into his chest. Tom widened his stance and frowned.

“She’s not just some random woman, Luke, and she has a name. It’s Ma…” He was cut off by the hostess greeting them as she arrived back at her station. I pondered what a coincidence it was that his friend’s name was the same as my potential client’s. Small world and all that. I heard his friend say “Reservation for Windsor, party of three,” and at that precise moment my brain decided to finally show up for work, granting me full access to the data it had kept locked away all morning.

Luke Windsor, whose name had escaped me at the bookstore, was Tom Hiddleston’s publicist. Who I thought should be fired. Tom Hiddleston, whom I hadn’t connected with Prosper PR, was his client. The client I mentioned as a social media fail in my seminar presentation. That Luke had attended on Saturday. I looked down at my tablet, saw ‘Luke Windsor’ typed in the search box, and realized that if I had but 20 seconds more before they walked in I would have made the connection. Not that it would have made much of a difference, but at least I would have had the opportunity to run for the ladies’ room and attempt to climb out the window. But with my luck, there wouldn’t have been a window. I exited out of my browser, stood up, stuffed my tablet into my messenger bag and began walking towards the hostess station.

******************************************************************  
Tom saw me first. His mouth dropped open, quickly closed, and then he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Maude? I…I…if this isn’t divine providence, I don’t know what is.” He grabbed Luke by the arm and spun him around. “Luke, this is Maude…from Talk Story. My savior, my liberator, my guardian angel.”

Luke’s eyes widened, but he paid no attention to Tom’s introduction. He held out his hand, and I shook it. “Hello, Maude. Thanks again for meeting with us on such short notice.” He waved his free hand in Tom’s direction, smirking. “It appears you and Tom are already acquainted.” 

I wondered if the confused look on Tom’s face was similar to the expression I had worn just moments ago. His brows knitted together. “Wait, what?” He looked down at the floor, back up at me, then turned his gaze to Luke. “This, this is the social media expert you’re foisting upon me?” he accused, jerking a thumb in my direction.

Luke laughed as he released my hand. “I guess introductions are in order after all. Maude Gallagher, Tom Hiddleston, my long-time friend and client who refuses to take any advice I give or follow instructions I provide regarding his social media presence. Tom Hiddleston, Maude Gallagher, social media expert who specifically cites you as an example of social media failure in her lectures. Which are world renowned, by the way. So you’d do well to zip it and listen to what she has to say.”

Tom’s hands were clenching and un-clenching at his sides. He glared at me, and I had an inkling that he was trying to determine whether or not I knew he was Luke’s client prior to our little adventure at Talk Story and was trying to pull one over on him or something. I glared back, arms crossed.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but YOU were the one who approached ME in the bookstore. And, purely for the sake of clarity, I was most certainly not aware that you were the client I’d be meeting.” He blanched, and I turned to the hostess. “Would you mind seating us, please? I’m quickly escalating from starving to hangry and no one wants to see that, trust me.” Luke walked directly after her, I followed and Tom brought up the rear. I could feel him closing in on me, and he rested his hand lightly on my back, speaking quietly.

“Maude, I’m so terribly sorry about that… but…I…I…how on earth did you know what I was thinking?” I answered him with a shrug as I kept walking. He leaned forward to whisper “You look ravishing, by the way.”

I snorted. “Nice segue attempt there, Tom. Say it again in your Loki voice I’ll consider extending my forgiveness.”

He slid his hand up to grasp the back of my neck gently and growled in my ear. “You. Look. Ravishing.” I swallowed hard and hoped he didn’t notice the goosebumps that had cropped up before he let go. It occurred to me that I might be biting off way more than I could chew…but gods, it tasted SO good. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“You know, I think that actually may have done the trick.” He winked at me as we reached the table. Luke had reserved a small area at the back of the restaurant, which was a bit more private. There were two tables with chairs on one side and booths on the other, situated in an L formation. Luke pulled a chair out for me. I shook my head.

“Let’s push the tables together so you can sit next to each other on the chair side and I’ll sit directly across from you in the booth.” I wanted to be able to see how they reacted to each other in order to establish their relationship dynamic. Plus, the booth looked way more comfortable and I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a brief meeting.

The hostess handed us our menus. “Your server will be with you shortly. If there’s anything I can help you with, please let me know.” She quickly walked back to her station to attend to growing line of waiting guests. I set mine down on the table. Luke smiled at me over his.

“I guess you weren’t joking when you said you already knew what you were ordering, then.” I laughed.

“Nope, I wasn’t. I’m having the Truffle Parmesan Fries and Fettucine Alfredo, and I’d be more than happy to partake in the Parmesan Herb-Baked Mozzarella if someone wants to share.” Tom and Luke set their menus down and our server, who had been waiting by the bar, hurried over to take our order. His hands were shaking, and I could tell he recognized Tom but was trying to be nonchalant about it. Luke chose the Spinach and Artichoke dip as his appetizer and Greek Pasta as his entrée. Tom opted for the Kunana Farms Warm Goat Cheese and Arugula Salad with grilled shrimp and a Chicken Florentine Panini. Neither ordered the appetizer I had mentioned. I stared at them for a moment, then looked up at our server.

“Dan, was it?” He nodded. “Sorry, Dan. Sometimes it takes a few tries before a name sinks in. Old age, I guess.” He smiled nervously. “I’d like to add the Parmesan Herb-Baked Mozzarella to my order, please.” He wrote it on his pad, mumbled something about our cocktail waitress and headed for the kitchen. I grinned at Luke. “I wasn’t joking about not being a dainty salad and water kind of gal, either.”

Our cocktail waitress was ridiculously tan, ridiculously thin and ridiculously blonde. Curiously enough, she chose to fawn all over Luke instead of Tom. Blushing from the neck up, he ordered a bottle of red wine and three glasses. I raised my hand to get her attention.

“Actually, we’ll only need two glasses…I’d like a Coke, please. Thanks.” Neither of them spoke as she walked away. I cleared my throat. “Shall we get started?” They nodded in unison.

“So, Tom, it’s my understanding that Luke, as your publicist, has advised you how to successfully maintain your social media presence but for some reason you’re non-compliant.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes. And Luke, you’re frustrated with Tom because he refuses to take your advice, and in turn it not only hurts his reputation but yours as well because it makes it appear that you aren’t doing your job.” He nodded as our drinks arrived. Both men filled their wine glasses to the brim immediately.

“To complicate matters, In addition to being professionally involved, the two of you are very good friends as well, correct?” They looked at each other and said ‘yes’ in stereo. I put my elbows on the table and leaned towards them. “That whole doing stuff at the same time is a little creepy. Just saying.” I could feel the tension slip away considerably as they swatted at each other and laughed.

I paused for a moment, taking a sip of my Coke as I evaluated the best option for proceeding. “I tend to be quite blunt, sometimes painfully so. I refuse to blow smoke up anyone’s ass, even if I miss out on a job because of it. Keep in mind that everything I say here isn’t intended to be a personal affront, but instead my professional opinion regarding what are, in truth, business decisions despite their inexorable connection with people and/or their personas.” Tom looked stunned and Luke breathed a sigh of what appeared to be relief. I directed my attention to Tom.

“Your twitter presence was absolutely stellar from inception through early 2013 or so. You posted your thoughts, things you liked, causes you cared about, photos, videos and, my personal favorite, your song of the day. You celebrated your fifty-thousandth follower. You interacted regularly with other celebrities and your fans. Your appearance at ComicCon was legendary in the PR community, I assure you. You were everywhere. You hit a million followers, which isn’t a number that’s easy to attain. Shortly afterward, around the time of your Coriolanus run, you began to pull back slowly but surely and now it’s to the point where your last tweet was April 27th. That’s two months ago. I checked prior to my seminar Saturday, and your current follower count is 2.22 million. You have a huge audience, yet you say nothing. I’d like you to explain the reasoning behind this, please.” His eyes were darting from me, to Luke, to the table, and back again as he tried to find the words, or perhaps a quick way out of the restaurant. I folded my hands on the table. “Please, take your time. I’ve got all day.”


	4. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the lunch meeting. This went totally sideways on me, but wound up right where I expected. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is welcome and deeply appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Tom put his elbows on the table and ran his hands through his hair, then laced them behind his head and stared down at the table top. Luke scowled at him.

“Tom, we’ve been over this so many times and always wind up back at square one. I’m confident in Maude’s ability to help us find a solution. All you have to do is tell her what you’ve already told me. Please, don’t squander this opportunity…or waste her time.” Tom kept staring and said nothing.

Luke’s hands gripped the edge of the table tightly as he continued speaking. “Tom. I truly hate to say it, but at this point, you’re dragging me down. Why would anyone choose to go with Prosper after seeing what I’ve ‘done’ for you in regard to social media? It looks like I have no clue what I’m doing, or that I don’t care. I love you like a brother, but if you refuse to budge on this you’re going to have to find a new publicist.”

Tom raised his head slowly and looked at me. I saw the same panic there as I had just a few hours earlier. He looked around the restaurant and swallowed, one hand picking anxiously at his T-shirt collar. I glanced around as well, spotting at least three tables with patrons that looked our way more than once, and I knew they had recognized Tom. Though the chances were remote, it was certainly possible for them to listen in on our conversation.

A few moments later Dan arrived with our appetizers. We remained silent but for our thank-yous. As he walked away I caught sight of Luke’s face…his lips were set tight, his eyes narrowed. I turned back to Tom and met his gaze, trying to speak as softly as possible without being inaudible.

“Is this something you’d rather not discuss in public?” He breathed a deep sigh of relief, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Why he hadn’t just come out and said it I didn’t know, and his not having done so seemed to push Luke right over the edge. He too tried to keep his voice down, but his words came out in a hiss.

“Thomas. You knew we were having this meeting, what we’d be talking about and where it would be. If you wanted a private setting why the fuck are we all sitting here?” Tom’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he grimaced.

“Well, I certainly didn’t anticipate that I’d be expected to reveal incredibly intimate details of my personal life in the middle of a fucking restaurant, Luke. You know why I feel the way I do, so you tell me why the fuck we’re all sitting here.” Luke pointed a finger in his face.

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me! If you had given it a moment’s thought you would have known where any discussion would lead. Or did you just plan on doing your Mister Wonderful routine to tip the scales in your favor without having to say a word?” Both of their faces were becoming redder by the second. I cleared my throat loudly and held up my hands.

“Gentlemen, how about we finish lunch, then find somewhere more private to continue?” They looked at me like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, then nodded. “Okay, good. Because there is no way in hell I’m leaving this place without eating my Fettucine Alfredo first.”

Tom smiled gingerly, then reached across the table to rest his hand on top of mine. He put his other arm around Luke’s shoulders. Luke sighed and dug into his Spinach and Artichoke dip.

“See, Luke? She really is my guardian angel.” He smiled at me, then let go of my hand to grab a big hunk of the Parmesan Herb-Baked Mozzarella, shoving it in his mouth before I could protest. I leaned forward and attempted to be menacing.

“Touch the angel’s food again and she’ll rip your arm right out of its socket.” He pushed his Goat Cheese and Arugula Salad in my direction.

“Don’t be selfish, Maude. Here, have some of my grilled shrimp salad.” I stuck out my tongue and shook my head.

“Yeech. Nope. I much prefer selfish to shellfish.” He laughed, slapping his right knee, which was of course way outside the table boundary because…those legs.

“Oh, Maude, that was so terribly bad it swung back around to good.” Even Luke had cracked a smile. He held up a finger as he finished chewing.

“Maude, I’m terribly sorry about this. In hindsight, I absolutely should have chosen a private spot. I’ve known Tom for so long, sometimes I forget just how high profile he’s become. You’ve been more than accommodating already…are you certain that you don’t mind taking this elsewhere? If you have prior obligations we can reschedule…” I cut him off, even though I had just taken a bite of mozzarella I’d managed to snag. Tom seemed intent on devouring it all despite my threat and was now picking at my Truffle Parmesan fries as well. 

“Mmm. Good lord, that’s fantastic.” I swallowed. “Sorry, I’m starving. Please, no worries. It’s fine. My schedule is clear until tomorrow morning.” Tom smirked and raised an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time since I’d woken up this morning. As if his beautiful face wasn’t enough of a distraction, he had to add constant innuendo to the mix. I bit my lip, wondering if maybe it was just me or if it was very, very warm in here. I shook my head to clear it.

“So, any ideas as to where we should go? I know there’s meeting space at my hotel but I’d need to check to make sure it’s available. If it’s more convenient for you, I’d be happy to travel so we’re closer to wherever you’re staying.”

Dan had returned to remove what he could of our appetizer dishes and let us know he’d be right back with our main course. I requested another Coke and he said he’d have our cocktail waitress bring it out straight away. As she dropped it off I made a mental note to look up the origin of the use of the word ‘cocktail’ to describe alcoholic beverages. Damn. Cock. Maude, don’t go there. Don’t. Tom. Cock. I could feel the blush rising up in my cheeks and began taking giant sips of my icy soda, hoping it would cool me down so no one would notice.

Luke was looked up from his phone. “Oh, we’re at the Marriott as well, Maude. Our adjoining suites have a nice patio area that’s quite private…we could opt for that if you’d like. It’s right on the beach.” Tom slapped both hands on the table and grinned wolfishly.

“Oh, I am truly enjoying all the Marriott has to offer…this morning I attended the sunrise ceremony, which was glorious, by the way, and then went for a run on the beach. When I was finishing up with my cool down stretches I looked towards our rooms to see if Luke was awake and about yet and something caught my eye one story up. A woman was out on her balcony, and she must have been so taken with the ocean view that she forgot she was still in her bedclothes. She stretched her arms above her head, her T-shirt rode up and…there she was, sans undergarments, in all her glory. She strode back into the room, yanked the T-shirt over her head and proceeded to walk across the entire suite completely nude. I shall be forever grateful that she neglected to close those balcony doors.”

I gasped, but instead of taking in air I inhaled one of my giant sips of Coke. Choking and spluttering, I quickly grabbed my napkin and held it over my face so I wouldn’t spit it all over everyone and everything. Then the coughing started. Tom hurriedly got up from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process.

“Arms up, darling, arms up. Are you alright?” I nodded, tears squeezing out of the corners of my eyes as I coughed into the napkin. I held up my index finger to indicate I needed a moment, then pointed in the direction of the restrooms as I wiggled out of the booth and stood. “Here, let me help you.”

He took my elbow and walked me around the corner to the entrance of the ladies room. I patted his hand as I opened the door and went inside, locking it behind me. Thankfully, it was a single occupant bathroom. I continued hacking up my lungs as quietly as possible, holding on to the edges of the sink for support. Once the spasms had calmed enough for me to breathe on a regular basis, I closed the toilet lid and plopped down, resting my head in my hands. For a few moments, I thought I might actually faint. I blew my nose, then tried some deep breathing to steady myself. It didn’t help. I forced myself to stand and face myself in the mirror. That didn’t fucking help, either. Kick-ass and take names Maude was MIA at the moment and the Maude she left behind in her place felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack as she struggled to comprehend what the hell all this MEANT. A knock at the door snapped me back to reality.

“Maude? Is everything okay in there?” Jesus H. Christ tap dancing on a fucking cracker, had he been standing out there the entire time? I put my chin to my chest and sighed heavily. At least I hadn’t been talking to myself. Quickly weighing my options, I determined revealing that I was the balcony nudist prior to finishing this meeting was absolutely not in my best interest. I took a last look in the mirror to make sure there were no boogers or spit smears lurking about, then opened the door. I gave him my very best everything-is-fine-so-fine-super-fine smile.

“Much better now, thanks.” I led the way and he followed me back to the table. “I’m so sorry…wrong pipe and all that.” Our food had arrived in the interim, and someone had ordered me another Coke. I pointed at the glass as I sat down. “Thank you.”

Luke grinned. “You’re quite welcome. You’d better get started on that alfredo…Tom’s eyeing it already.” Tom swatted at him as he sat down. I was focusing on cutting my pasta into smaller pieces for a solid minute before I noticed they were silent. I paused, looking up to find them both staring at me.

I raised my eyebrows. “Yes, I’m aware that the accepted protocol for eating pasta is to roll it around one’s eating utensil, but whatever genius came up with that rule obviously never experienced the many pleasures of wearing corrective lenses.” Shrugging, I shoved a hearty forkful into my mouth. The noise I made when it hit my taste buds bordered on obscene. Tom raided my plate and stole a forkful for himself.

“Sorry, but if it’s that good I veritably must try some.” He groaned in delight. “Oh, it IS that good.” Luke shook his head and nipped a bite of his own.

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve been coerced into participating in cuisine pornography?” His eyes widened as he licked the fork clean. “So wrong. No coercion necessary. I volunteer.” We all laughed, then got down to the serious business of stuffing ourselves.

Dan came round to clear our dinner plates and inquire as to whether or not we’d like dessert. Tom and Luke said no, but I ordered a chocolate cannoli to go and shook my head.

“You disappoint me, gentlemen. How can you eat Italian and not have a cannoli? It’s just not right. But, I suppose that’s why you’re both in tip-top shape. I should applaud your restraint.” We walked to the counter to pay the bill in an effort to speed things along. “Where do you want to meet back at the hotel?”

Luke tucked his wallet back into his pants pocket. “Why don’t we just park in the main lot together?” Tom opened the door for me, and I heard one of the patrons commenting on what a gentleman he was.

“Sounds good to me. See you there.” Instead of reviewing my planned talking points for the rest of the meeting, I spent the ride back to the hotel wondering how the hell I was going to remain even the slightest bit professional when one of the men sitting across from me had seen me naked. A man who just happened to be Tom Hiddleston, and who seemed to have enjoyed the view. 

*****************************************  
We entered the hotel lobby and I was thrilled to see that the woman who had thought me a swindler earlier was still at the desk. Tom was in front of me and she greeted him with such over the top enthusiasm I thought I might puke.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hiddleston. If there’s anything we can do for you, anything at all, please, please let us know. We’re always just a phone call away, day or night.”

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you. If we need something I’ll be sure to let you know.” She pivoted to see who his companions were. The way her expression changed when she recognized me was epic, evolving in an instant from adoration to surprise to disbelief and finally disdain. She managed to reclaim her fake smile and appear cordial, but her clenched jaw and rapidly reddening neck said otherwise. She nodded curtly in my direction.

“Ms. Gallagher.” I couldn’t help myself. I turned to Tom, looked him up and down, then met her eyes and gave her my fuck-off-and-die grin. He tilted his head quizzically, then began walking backwards so he could face me as we headed to his and Luke’s suites.

“Sooo, what was that about, if you don’t mind my asking?” I recounted the key card fiasco. He doubled over laughing. “Oh, Maude, you can’t be serious.” I stopped and leaned in toward his face.

“Oh, but I am. Deadly serious. My life…it’s such an adventure.” Luke coughed.

“Personally, I’m rather devastated that she didn’t even acknowledge my existence. That’s MY life. When Tom’s around, I turn into the invisible man.” Tom threw his arms around him, lifting him off his feet and spinning him around. 

“Thomas William Hiddleston, you put me down right now!” Tom set him down, clapping him on the back as he opened the door of room 103 with his keycard. Luke shook his head and glanced at me. “My sincerest apologies for my client’s abhorrent lack of decorum, Maude.” I smirked.

“No need to apologize. To be honest, this is by far the most entertaining consultation I’ve ever had. Shall we adjourn to the patio and get started?” I could see the beach through the glass sliders from the doorway where we stood, and I was dying to feel the breeze and hear the waves crashing. He held out his arm.

“Ladies first.” I walked through the suite, noting that it was essentially identical to mine but for the interior door connecting it to Tom’s and the glass sliders. I pulled on the handle and discovered that they weren’t actually sliders but instead folded open accordion style. The patio itself was the length of both suites, with privacy lattice in place on each side, and plenty of room for a round table with four chairs as well as two chaise lounges. A grassy area separated it from the sand, and the noise of the water would make it difficult for anyone to overhear our conversation. I stared at the breaking waves, taking in the view and breathing in the salty air. The sound of chairs scraping on the patio pulled me out of the moment, and I started to sit in a chair that backed to the ocean. Luke tried to stop me.

“Here, Maude…sit on this side so you can see the water.” I shook my head.

“Thanks, Luke, but I’d better sit here. If I’m facing the beach I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you both my undivided attention.” I fished my laptop out of my messenger bag, turning it on but leaving it partially closed. I refused to take notes on my tablet unless no other options were available. On screen keyboards, as far as I was concerned, were not designed for real, actual work. Tom and Luke took their places at the table.

“Okay, now, where were we?” I smiled. “Right, Tom was going to explain the reasoning behind his withdrawal from social media. Have at it, and please don’t hold back. Everything you say here will be held in the strictest confidence.”

Tom closed his eyes, swallowed, opened them and began. “Alright, here we go. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer to say my piece in full prior to your responding.” I nodded. “Thanks. I’d had social media experience before I became an established actor, of course. Once Thor came into play, I set up a Twitter account at Luke’s suggestion without hesitation. People began following me, and it was incredible interacting with them. They liked my work, they wanted to talk about the characters…it made me feel like I was part of something very special, and it was both thrilling and humbling that people wanted to know more about me and hear what I had to say outside the confines of someone else’s story. It was something I could have never dreamed of, honestly, but all of a sudden, I had all these… fans.” His eyes sparkled with excitement as he recalled what must have been notably joyful moments of his burgeoning career. He looked down, frowned, and continued.

“As time went on and I became a more well-known, things got a bit odd. People begged for follows, they told me they loved me, that sort of thing. Literally every time I’d tweet the same person would reply with ‘I love you, please follow me, it would mean everything to me.’ It made me feel ill at ease, but I kept going as I didn’t want the many to suffer for the actions of the few. But it seemed that no matter what I posted, even if it was about UNICEF, it was the same thing over and over and it made interaction on a personal level impracticable. Around that time, the relationship speculation took off in the press…any woman I was photographed with was my new girlfriend, or we were secretly married. The reaction of people on not only my feed, but across ALL of Twitter, horrified me. They criticized the woman’s appearance, questioned her motives, even going so far as to post her address and phone number for all to see. Even worse, if that’s possible, people who were calling themselves my fans were attacking each other with vitriol the likes of I’d never seen. Bullying, belittling, shaming…and I was the catalyst for it all.” His eyes shone with tears, and I had to repress an urge to take his hand.

“At that point I stopped posting anything about myself or my personal life, keeping it all business, with a selfie here and there mixed in on the days I didn’t feel so hopeless about the entire affair. I felt like I had created a monster, and perhaps removing myself from the situation would at least put it back in its cage.” He paused to gather his thoughts, and I readied myself to respond…except he wasn’t finished.

“I realize that may seem insignificant, and thus my contention is obviously more complicated than just some disturbing online comments. Between being chosen to play Loki and the release of Avengers, I dated a lovely woman. As a fellow actor she possessed, I assumed, a deeper understanding of the way publicity and fame works than most. She had yet to be cast in a film with a wide release, but seemed to be supportive of my achievements and things appeared to be going very well between us. As it turned out, she had quite a jealous streak, and my interacting with female fans online or in person in any capacity became completely unacceptable to her, which I couldn’t understand. After a few horrible weeks of her continually accusing me of cheating, she broke it off. I was devastated, not so much by our breakup, but at the realization that finding the professional success I had sought for so long might inhibit my ability to cultivate a successful relationship.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and continued.

“I had so many projects going on I really didn’t have time enough to even consider pursuing something serious, but early in 2013 I met an delightful woman, a record executive. She had a fantastic sense of humor, and I thought that since I was already in the limelight things might work out differently. We attended Wimbledon together, and had discussed beforehand what to expect out of a public appearance. She said she was fine with it, but when the press went nuts and her face was plastered all over the internet the torrent of negativity began. To appease her, I agreed that we should keep our relationship a secret. Things cooled down between us while I was on the Dark World press tour, but rekindled while I was home for Coriolanus. After my run at the Donmar, we went on holiday…photos of us with a chef from a restaurant we enjoyed were posted on Facebook, sporting a caption that referred to us as Mr. and Mrs. Hiddleston. It went viral despite Luke’s best efforts to quash it, people assumed that we had secretly wed and were on our honeymoon, and that was that. She said she could never love someone enough that she’d be willing to have her every move, her very existence, displayed and dissected in view of the entire world.”

I blanched. Surprisingly, so did Luke. I looked at him quizzically and he shook his head, shrugging. It appeared to be his first time hearing this. Tom’s head was in his hands, elbows on the table. The rhythmic hitching of his shoulders told me he was weeping, albeit silently, and I felt frozen in place. Every instinct pushed me to comfort him, but my rational mind argued that it would be thoroughly unprofessional to do so. I looked for Luke, but he had disappeared. I slid my chair over so I was right next to Tom and put my hand on his back, startling him. He looked at me, and the sorrow in his eyes made me gasp audibly. He began wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, and Luke returned to the table with a box of tissues. Tom blew his nose, took a few deep breaths and began speaking again.

“So. That’s it, then, I think. I am of the opinion that social media is a waste of time and effort, and it is responsible for the spread of hate and negativity on a scale the world has never seen before. I don’t want to be a part of that, and I refuse to participate in it in any capacity. I want to do my job, do the things I enjoy, and ultimately just live my life. If my ‘star power’ goes down the shitter because of that, I’m fine with it. I’m more than fine with it. Truthfully, I’d be fucking grateful. Then maybe I’d have a chance at being happy and having a life with someone.” That kicked me into gear. I let my hand fall from his back, then slid my chair back to where it was. Luke returned to his seat as well and sighed.

“Well, I certainly have a better handle on the situation. Now, my turn. Do you need a break first?” He shook his head. “Good. I’ll begin by letting you know that I’m not really a fan of the whole whiny ‘I’m famous but I never asked for all this attention I deserve my privacy’ thing. You’re the one who wanted to be an actor; you signed up for this. This is the life you chose, and if you didn’t think it through that’s on you. Or am I wrong?” He shook his head again.

“Damn right I’m not. That being said, I know with you it’s coming from a different place, and it’s a lonely, awful place, so you get a pass this time. Mainly because I’ve pretty much been on the road for the past ten years building my business and I’m well aware of how distance can stand in the way of having a fulfilling relationship. I don’t particularly care, but I’m aware. You obviously desire companionship and all that goes with it, which is, you know, nice. But the crux of the issue is this – if a woman you become involved with wants a normal, traditional life, you either need to quit acting or find another woman.” Luke burst out laughing. I raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“It’s the truth, and you can’t blame social media for your relationship failures. While it narrows your pool considerably, you partner needs to have certain qualities that suit your life choices. That happens in every person’s life, not just the famous ones. It’s called compatibility.” He was staring at me, and I could see his nostrils flaring.

“You seem to be under the impression that if you pull back from social media you’ll be left alone eventually, but as long as you keep acting that will never happen. You’re too good. People love you. Reducing your presence will only make your perceived problem worse. If you don’t want the paparazzi chasing you down and taking shots of you while you’re out getting coffee, or trying to find out every detail of your life and then getting it SO wrong, the solution is actually becoming fully invested in social media. Post pictures of yourself getting coffee. Tweet what you did today. Be OUT THERE. Because if you are, their photos and stories are worth jack shit because they aren’t a story anymore. You’ve beaten them to the punch, with the truth.” He blinked like an owl, finally commenting.

“I…I never thought of it that way.” I pointed both index fingers at him and wagged them up and down.

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” I grinned quickly, but then it was back to my business bitch face. “This particular strategy is also very effective on the fan front as well. Let me remind you that what you do, as an actor, is provide a distraction for people, entertain them, and help them escape from their ordinary lives. You give them a hobby. You allow them to connect with others by talking about you and your work. You bring them joy they might not normally have. Some people fish for entertainment, and they want to learn everything about fishing – the equipment, the fish, the water - everything. Thus, people will want to know more about YOU because you are a component of what entertains them. It’s as simple as that, and if you tell them what they want to know, within reason of course, they won’t seek it elsewhere or speculate endlessly as to what the truth actually is. Like relationship status. Look at Benedict…he’s now married and has a child, and his fans for the most part have embraced it all and love him all the more for it. Imagine if he had tried to hide it.” He tilted his head at me. “Yes, I’m saying the way you obtain a bit more privacy is by being less private. It makes no sense on the surface, but it works. I was asked to consult with Arnold Schwarzenegger’s team after the news broke about his infidelity and illegitimate child. While he couldn’t be too vocal about circumstances, he did make himself available, upped his posting, and made a point of focusing it on new projects in the hope of drawing attention away from his predicament. The end goal was to make him more likeable again. It worked like a charm, and as a bonus the paps stopped jumping out of the fucking bushes.” I got up from my chair to stretch and remained standing.

“Sorry, I need to move around. I’m going to open this for questions in a moment, but wanted to address social media comments in particular first. Luke knows all this, as it’s something I address at length in the context of my seminars. But you weren’t there so I’ll give you the short version. I worked with Susan Downey right after they launched all Robert’s accounts, and their main concern was how to handle all the negativity. I’ll tell you what I told them…you worry about the posting, and hire someone else to read the comments. If they see something good, have them tell you and you can reply if you wish. Everything else is just bullshit. In your case, if hiring someone to take care of it isn’t feasible, you simply don’t read them. That’s it. Pretend they don’t exist. Post your piece and never look back. Tada, problem solved.” I rooted in my messenger bag and pulled out the Styrofoam box that contained my cannoli, a plastic fork and some napkins. I plopped back down in my chair and dug in. “So, any questions?”

Tom’s mouth was agape, and Luke looked like the cat who had just swallowed the canary. Neither of them spoke.

“Okay then. Luke, if you want me to draw up a formal proposal detailing how I think you should proceed just let me know. I normally charge anywhere from a thousand to…” He cut me off by holding up his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture.

“Actually, Maude, I don’t want you to draw up a proposal. What I DO want is to hire you to work exclusively for Prosper as Tom’s social media manager.”


	5. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Maude take Luke up on his job offer? And how does Tom feel about all of this? We find out a few details of Maude’s past. And, Maude finally gets her ass on the beach. I struggled with this one and wound up scrapping a good thousand words when the lightbulb finally went off and it was smooth sailing after. Feedback would be deeply appreciated, and thank you for reading!

I dropped my fork. “I’m sorry, I must have heard that wrong, because it sounded like you just asked me to become your employee.” Luke’s brow lifted.

“No, you heard it absolutely correctly. I did ask you to come work for me. For Prosper. Initially as Tom’s social media manager, and when that’s squared away, as Prosper’s social media director.” So many things I wanted to include in my reply instantaneously flooded my brain, but, as usual, it was miles ahead of my mouth and lord knew what would come out if I spoke. I decided taking another bite of my cannoli while they fell back in sync was the best course of action. Chewing slowly, I looked back and forth from Tom to Luke, then swallowed. I chose my words carefully, hoping to not be offensive. 

“Luke, I’m incredibly appreciative, but normally my role is to provide plans for social media managers and directors, which they in turn implement while working one-on-one with their clients. Direct client management isn’t really something I’ve done, and I’m not sure it’s something I’m interested in, or even capable of doing.” He fished some papers out of his bag and pushed them across the table.

“Anne Rice says you’re capable.” I snatched them up, holding in my hand a copy of my resume as well as an email from Anne, singing my praises. It appeared to have been sent earlier in the day. I laughed softly. Client testimonials were usually all anyone cared about, but I kept my resume posted on my website just in case. I didn’t think anyone had ever even looked at it, never mind taken the time to contact my former employers.

“Nice detective work, Luke. I’m impressed. But not only was that more than ten years ago, Anne doesn’t count. She has to say nice things…she’s a friend of the family.” He looked puzzled. “My parents owned a home right down the street from her in the Garden District of New Orleans. When she got wind of my new business venture she volunteered to be my guinea pig.”

Tom leaned forward, scrutinizing me skeptically. “You’re from New Orleans?” I nodded and slipped into an exaggerated southern drawl.

“Born and raised. Even rode on some Mardi Gras floats.” I shrugged and switched back to my regular dialect. “I never had a strong accent, and I’ve lived in New York nearly as long as I did in New Orleans, so it’s faded almost completely.”

Luke pointed his index finger at me. “You should know that not only did she reply to my email immediately, she gave me her number so we could speak. We talked for a good twenty minutes, and she told me she credits you with all of her social media success, including the idea for ‘People of the Page’. She said you were the only one who managed to help her not only understand, but embrace the technology that allowed her to form deeper connections with her legion of fans. And, she wishes she could have held on to you forever, but she didn’t want to keep you from your dream.” He paused for a moment. I made no comment. “According to your resume, you’re also proficient in website design, graphic design and photography, which are additional assets you’d bring to the company. I’m assuming you do your own site?”

“Correct.” I opened my laptop, started Firefox, pulled up Prosper’s website and grimaced. “Who does yours? It’s…it’s…how do I do put this nicely?” I raised my eyes skyward in thought. “Nope, I can’t. It’s awful. You’re redirecting people to your social media instead of having an actual site. It’s all lowercase, and the italic version of your font is hard to read. There’s a generic, single email as a means of contact. I don’t see a phone number. And that black background…I just can’t even.”

Luke began rubbing his temples. “Admittedly, we’re lacking in that area at the moment.” I snorted. “Maude, this is exactly why I need you. As far as PR goes, I’m exceptionally motivated and skilled.” Tom coughed. Luke shot him a chastising look. “Quiet, you. I lighted out on my own because I know I have something unique to offer…genuine bespoke, personal publicity. What I didn’t account for is the amount of time and effort the social media aspect of it would require. Events, interviews, red carpets, networking, I can handle all of those things with very minimal assistance.” He frowned.

“Unfortunately, I’ve found that all too often I put social media on the back burner because I can’t keep up with it, and as a result I feel like I’m not delivering what I promised to my clients. A few months back I determined it was time to seek outside help, but not a single applicant met my expectations. You, however, exceed my expectations.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Luke, I always appreciate an ego boost, but let’s keep in mind that I didn’t apply for anything.” I put an elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. “I did agree to an initial consultation, and since you attended my seminar you know where things are supposed to go from there. Translation – not here.” I leaned back in the chair and linked my hands behind my head. “But, this is where we’ve ended up, and I would be remiss if I didn’t entertain your offer, however briefly. So, what the hell. Lay down the details. Especially the ones pertaining to compensation and benefits.”

************************************************  
I stood staring out at the horizon as the waves hit my shins, wiggling my toes in the wet sand underneath the water. Finally, beach. Warm, breezy, sunny, quiet, beautiful beach.

After learning that Tom had no prior knowledge of Luke’s plan to hire someone as his social media manager, I excused myself so they could speak in private for as long they deemed necessary. That’s what I told them, anyway. In truth, I really just needed to get the hell out of there so I could attempt to process all this insanity… which I knew wasn’t even remotely possible until I was alone. Part of me hoped that ‘as long as they deemed necessary’ turned into several hours. Or days.

Luke had proposed an initial annual salary of one hundred thousand dollars while I was working with Tom, increasing to one hundred and twenty-five thousand upon assuming the role of Social Media Director of Prosper. I’d be issued a corporate credit card and expense account, and the company would cover all travel expenses. I currently grossed around forty thousand more than that a year on my own, but being stuck covering all my own travel costs made it a negligible difference. When I factored in the lack of income stability that goes hand-in-hand with self-employment, I’d probably come out ahead financially if I opted to accept the position.

When I pressed him to define my duties and responsibilities, he’d shaken his head and imparted that I was the expert, not him, and therefore I should implement whatever strategies I would have included if I had drawn up a proposal. Though I’d technically be an employee, he preferred that I handle everything on my own and retain complete creative control for the duration of my time as Tom’s personal social media manager. We’d step back and re-evaluate things when I was ready to take the directorial helm.

My spot near the water was becoming popular, with several children running amok carting floats, balls and a slew of other things ankle biters enjoy that destroy peace and solitude for the rest of us. I was walking to the opposite side of the property from Luke’s room where it was less crowded when the gravity of my situation overwhelmed me completely and began to literally pull me down. I sank to my knees on the sand, then tried to shift to a sitting positon as gracefully as possible and without flashing everyone on the beach. Again.

I rested my ass on the back of my calves, listed to one side using my arm as a support, lifted my hips a little, extended both legs at the same time, then pushed myself upright. Not pretty, I’m sure, but I had managed to keep my legs closed. I crossed them at the ankle just to be safe and began to mull over my options. “Okay, Maude. Crunch time. Don’t fuck this up.”

When I first started out, I loved every minute of my ‘job’ and had a burning desire to share my knowledge. Maude Gallagher, LLC was everything I had aspired to do and be. I ate, slept and breathed it like oxygen. I never stopped working, always a phone call or an email away from jumping on a plane. But over the past few years, it seemed that my interest in my own company was steadily waning. While I constantly updated my lectures, the material remained essentially the same and what I used to find fun had become work. Every proposal I presented to a client was unique, but at its core it was identical to all the rest. I still put forth 100%, and my ‘phoning it in’ was akin to someone else’s ‘gave it my all’, but something inside me had changed. What was once my life had become just a job, and that prompted me to consider that I might have missed out on actually living along the way. I kept on truckin’, as they say, because the money was so damn good and the idea of having a boss was horrifying after so many years of answering to no one but myself.

Now here I was, sitting on a beach in Kaua’i, wearing a dress and trying to ignore the sand working its way between my thighs, faced with the daunting task of deciding what the fuck I wanted to do with my life…keep running in place, monotonous but comfortably familiar? Or race off in a new direction, intriguing but entirely foreign?

My proposal for Luke would have advised him to have a website created, marketing materials designed, the existing social media accounts revamped and new platforms established with all of them monitored intensely. I also thought it best that Tom have his own photographer/videographer who’d travel with him to shoot on set, at events and in ‘normal’ situations when deemed permissible. He would have had to hire three or more individuals to meet these specifications, but if I signed on he’d only need me. When I thought of all the types of work involved, how it would be different every single day, that I could be creative again…there was no way I could deny that it sounded pretty fucking spectacular. But something was holding me back, making me hesitate instead of screaming ‘yes, I’ll take it!’…and that something was Tom. Though we’d just met a few short hours ago and I didn’t know him at all, I felt…well, I had no idea what it was, only that is was THERE and that it scared the living shit out of me.

************************************************  
I was picking up handfuls of sand and watching it sift through my fingers over and over again when I noticed the long shadow to my left, growing ever closer. Khaki cargo pants followed. I looked up…and up…and up. The sun was almost directly behind us, bathing him in an ethereal glow. So, so beautiful. I licked my lips and wished he’d lose the T-shirt already. He squatted beside me, elbows on his knees.

“Hi.” The corner of his mouth curled in a half smile.

“Hey.” I wiped the remaining bits of sand on my dress. He gestured towards the ground.

“May I?” I nodded. He sat, crossing his legs Indian style, which I wouldn’t have believed possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. “Luke and I just finished chatting.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks for coming to let me know.” I started to get up, but he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“I…erm…there are a few things I’d like to say before you go back to see him. If you don’t mind hearing me out, that is.” I shook my head.

“Nope. I don’t mind at all.” He ran his hands through his hair and met my gaze.

“Thank you, Maude.” He swallowed. It crossed my mind that he appeared nervous, but I dismissed it because I didn’t want to consider what that meant. I frowned, turning to look towards the ocean. I heard him inhale deeply.

“First, I want to apologize for losing control of my emotions and acting like a tit. My comment about social media being a waste of time and effort and doing nothing but spreading hate was uncalled for, and I in no way meant to devalue you or your work. All of the feelings I entombed broke loose and I’m so very sorry you had to bear witness to my little crackup.” I turned to look at him and patted his knee.

“No worries. Everybody loses their shit to some degree at one point or another.” He pointed at me, brow raised. “Yes, even me. But really, this was nothing. I once had a client scream ‘this mother fucking social media bullshit has ruined my fucking career and my cunt of a wife fucking left me and now I’m going to have to pay her a fuck ton of alimony and it’s all your fault, you stupid fucking fat piece of shit’ in my face.” Tom’s mouth was closed so tightly his lips were a tiny, thin line. “He was so inept that he accidentally posted a photo of his girlfriend sucking his cock across all his accounts instead of sending it directly to her phone. Best part was that he took the shot in the mirror so his face was clearly visible.”

He put his hand on mine. “Tell me who it was and I’ll happily beat the living shit out of him.”

“Thanks, but not necessary. I handled it. By slapping him three times. And telling him that if I ever heard even a whisper of him saying another derogatory thing about me I’d hunt him down, rip his nuts off with my bare hands and feed them to him for dinner.”

Tom’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “You did no such thing.” I laughed.

“Oh, but I did. And then I fired his sorry ass. And then his band fired his sorry ass. Last I heard he was broke and filing for bankruptcy. Karma, Thomas. She is indeed a wicked bitch.” Before I knew what was happening he leaned in and enveloped me in an embrace. Time came to a grinding halt and I was frozen in place. He rubbed my back for a moment and released me before I even had a chance to hug him back. He remained close, his face only inches from mine.

“Maude, you are an amazing woman. And absolutely beautiful.” I blinked. It was the only thing I was physically capable of doing. I considered telling him that being called fat was a common occurrence for me, though it did happen less now that I was a size 14 instead of a 24…and that it really never got under my skin. Because, fuck that. I had never been lacking in the self-esteem department no matter what the scale said. Or my mother said. I had just come to the conclusion that I’d save that particular tidbit for you know, never, when I felt something under my chin. It was Tom’s hand.

“Shit, sorry, I got lost there for a bit. Woolgathering.” He smirked as he slid his fingers and thumb along my jaw and slowly backed away. He put his hand over his heart.

“Second on my list of things to say… I’m afraid I have a confession to make.” I made a get on with it motion with my right hand. “Earlier, at Talk Story, my requesting you specifically to assist me may not have been entirely a happenstance of fate.” I raised an eyebrow.

“When I walked in, the desk was completely deserted so I wandered off to see if I could locate someone to help me. After coming out of a side room I glanced back at the desk, saw the lovely girls in their Loki shirts, realized they were all staff members, and admittedly panicked a bit. Not because they were fans, but because I had very little time and I knew they’d want a few moments with me and I just couldn’t squeeze it in. I’d worn the ugly shirt and cap so people would be less apt to recognize me for that very reason.”

I poked him in the chest. “You know you have to go back there, don’t you? That adorable girl Alani will die of heartbreak knowing that you were in the store and she didn’t get to meet you.” He grinned.

“I absolutely will. And I’ll ask for her by name. But, on with my confession. So, there I was, caught like the proverbial deer in headlights. And then I saw…you. You had two books in one hand, and a several spread out on a table. I heard your phone alarm go off, and I saw your lips move but couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. I watched you gather them up as if they were precious treasures, and I sneakily followed you as you returned them gently to their proper places. I saw someone with a very obvious love for books, who happened to be a gorgeous woman, a ray of light shining through the early morning fog. It seemed logical that you were an employee, or perhaps the owner, but…here’s the confession part… I honestly didn’t care whether you were or not. I just had to meet you, and my book reservation was the perfect cover story in the event my logic was flawed. I hesitated when I was finally directly behind you, and when you turned around I almost lost my nerve, but when you looked into my eyes I knew it was now or never. ” He took a deep breath, and I noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. I reached out and took one in mine.

“I thought you may have recognized me, and was waiting for you to out me. I really was. Instead, you marched up to that desk, got my book and brought it to me even though you didn’t actually work there. You paid for the damn thing. And when you called me Indy, the fact that you not only picked up the reference but played along…” He shook his head and put his free hand on top of mine, sandwiching it between both of his.

“Which brings me to the third thing on my list of things to say. And it’s the last. On the street, when I said I wanted to find out who you were, and that I had never wanted to discover anything else quite so badly? I meant that, Maude. All the way down to the depths of my very soul.” I was speechless. Completely, utterly without words. He leaned in to meet my gaze.

“I don’t understand why, or how, or what the fuck it is exactly that I’m feeling…but what I AM certain of is that I’ve never felt it before and it’s glorious and incredible and terrifying all at once. And whether you decide to take the job or not, I still want to KNOW you, Maude. I NEED to know you.”

I smirked devilishly, hoping to add some levity to the situation so I wouldn’t totally freak the fuck out.

“Like, biblically?”

He threw back his head, laughing so loudly people down the beach turned to look our way. I started giggling, which turned into guffawing, and then the snorting started. He laughed even harder and soon enough we were both weeping and holding our sides, trying to catch our breath. I was wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand when he whispered in my ear.

“Yes, Maude. Biblically. As often as humanly possible, preferably.” He pulled back so he could see my face, trying to analyze my expression to determine what I was thinking. I smiled softly.

“I want to know you too, Tom. In every way imaginable.” He grinned, then stood, offering me a hand up. I took it. “Let’s go see a man about a job, shall we?”

************************************************  
Luke was overjoyed at my acceptance of his offer and after we all had a quick dinner he broke out the bottle of champagne he’d ordered. He placed a glass in front of me and began to pour. I held up my hand in protest.

“No thank you…none for me, please.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you have any tea lying around? I’d love a cup if you do.” He went off to see what was in the kitchenette. Tom was pacing around outside, phone up to his ear, his free hand gesturing wildly. He’d just gotten word that Michael Keaton and J. K. Simmons had pulled out of Skull Island. I saw him tap the end call button and he walked back into the room just as Luke came in to tell me he hadn’t had any luck finding me some tea. He set the phone on the table.

“Well, it looks like the shoot’s been postponed until early 2016.” Luke shrugged.

“It happens, Tom. I wasn’t thrilled with either of them being cast, to be honest.” Tom sighed, then grinned at me.

“On the bright side, this gives us lots of time to get things up and running on the social media front.” I yawned. We still had a ton of details to work out as far as how we were going to proceed, but I was exhausted and needed some time alone to get in the zone for my two long days of seminars. Which would be my last, at least for a while. Knowing that felt…delightful, as much as it pained me to admit it.

“Gentlemen, I hate to be a party pooper, but I have two insane days coming up and need some rest so I don’t muck things up too badly.” They both awwweeed but I got up from my chair anyway, slinging my bag over my shoulder and picking up my shoes. “We’re still on for the museum’s hula class at five on Wednesday?” 

They nodded, and Tom rose from his chair, grinning like a fool. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. May I walk you to your room?”

I rolled my eyes. “If you must.”

He took my elbow and walked me to the door. “Oh, I must.”

I waved at Luke. “Goodnight, Luke…and thank you. If you need something, call.”

“Goodnight, Maude. And thank you. This is a game changer for Prosper, and I appreciate you being on board. I couldn’t make it happen otherwise.” He closed the door behind us.

Tom stopped out in the hallway. “Where is your room, exactly?” I headed for the stairs. We walked in silence, just basking in each others presence. I stopped in front of my room, found my keycard in my bag and opened the door. He pointed to the number.

“Oh, 203…you’re right above Luke.” I just stood there and watched his face, waiting for it to dawn on him. When it finally did, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, finally spluttering “Right above. Luke. Your room. Is.”

It was my turn to grin like a fool. “Yes, yes it is. If you take another run in the morning you may want to look up periodically. You never know, I just might forget to close the balcony doors again.”


	6. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maude tries to tie up some lose ends prior to her last two speaking engagements, and Maude and Tom get to know each other. Like REALLY know each other. Yes, folks, things get hot and heavy. This was not my intent with this chapter, but Maude and Tom were like ‘we want to do the thing’ and I didn’t have the heart to stop them. This is my very first attempt at erotica, and I hope it isn’t horrible or trite or…yeah. And, we also learn where the title comes from, and in part, the story itself. I heard the song in the car and was thinking about these two and BOOM. Feedback would be FABULOUS. Thanks for reading!

I had said goodnight and closed the door on a still speechless Tom, then slid down the back of it and hit the floor with a gentle thud. I sat there like a rag doll, arms hanging loose at my sides, chin resting on my chest as my synapses fired like a fourth of July fireworks show gone awry. I felt like one of the Synths from HUMANS when their code went bad.

Half an hour went by before the world began to come into focus again, and I slowly began to take the vast amount of shit that required my attention into consideration. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.

“Am I insane? How the hell am I going to tie up all my loose ends and do two seminars in two days? What the fuck was I thinking?!?” My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my bag…it was Tom. Right. That’s what I’d been thinking. I tapped the answer button.

“What can I do to you, Thomas?” I slapped my hand to my forehead when I realized what I’d said. Nothing like a classic Freudian slip to start off our very first phone conversation.

There was a moment of silence, then a sharp intake of breath that was deliciously tantalizing…which I desperately tried to ignore as I scrambled to recover.

“Whoops. Perhaps I should rephrase that. What can I do FOR you, Thomas?”

“I…I…” He cleared his throat. “Christ, Maude, are you trying to kill me? It took me all this time to cease picturing you strutting naked through your suite and regain enough of my composure to hit the call button.”

I grunted out a hmpf. “If it’s any consolation, I’m still sitting with my back against the room door. Because that happens to be where I landed when I slid down it after closing it in your face. Now my legs are asleep and I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get up.”

“Serves you right, you wicked temptress.” He laughed, then paused. “I know you’re ridiculously busy, but I…well, I suppose I just wanted to hear your voice again so I could reassure myself that this unimaginably marvelous day actually happened and I didn’t dream it all.”

I groaned. “Really, Hiddleston? How the fuck I am I supposed to top that? Anything I could conjure up would pale in comparison, so I’ll simply state that I understand and concur.”

“Good. Now, shall I pay you a visit and help you attain a more desirable position?” I didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking.

“Thomas. Stahp. I have no time for a cold shower break.” He laughed.

“I guess that makes us even, then. I’ll let you get back to work. Goodnight, Maude.”

“Goodnight, Tom. And if you find you need something to keep you occupied, feel free to make me a list of at least five websites you like the looks of. Don’t forget to include exactly what you like and why you like it.”

He huffed. “Did you just assign me homework? Because it sounds very much like you assigned me homework.”

“Let’s call it project participation instead. Better?”

“Marginally.” He paused for a few seconds. “May I call you tomorrow after your seminar?”

“I’d be rather pissed if you didn’t.”

“And I’d be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Goodnight again, Maude. Try and get some rest.”

“You too. Goodnight again, Tom.”

I hit end call and began the arduous process of hefting myself off the floor. It was even worse than I anticipated, and I was reasonably sure I bore a strong resemblance to a newborn calf standing up for the first time. Once I felt steady enough, I pulled my dress over my head, yanked off my bra and grabbed a T-shirt off the floor. I sniffed it…not bad. I slipped it on, grabbed my messenger bag and plopped down at the desk. 

***************************************************   
My first mission was to find a videographer willing to work on extremely short notice. I’d decided to have these last two seminars recorded, hoping one or an edited combination of both would be good enough to post on my website for sale. Consulting was out of the question, but there was no reason to not make some residual cash after so many years of perfecting my lectures. Plus, it alleviated the bit of apprehension I felt at pulling the plug on everything in the blink of an eye. I found one that was open until 11 PM and had experience with marketing production - Kamana Media. I dialed the contact number, fingers crossed.

The rep seemed very excited when I told him what I wanted, but balked when I casually mentioned that I needed it done tomorrow and Wednesday. It took some seriously high levels of Maude-schmooze and tripling their normal rate, but they’d be at the hotel tomorrow morning at 9 AM.

Next came editing my presentations to remove all references to consultations, followed by a search for a shopping cart that worked with both my merchant account and design software. Then came my favorite part…getting the cart customized, adding items, and figuring out how to embed the code to my site files so it would display exactly the way I wanted. The next time I looked up, it was 1 AM and I still had some text modifications to complete, in addition to a ‘hey, so sorry, but I’m outta here’ letter to post on the site and across all my social media accounts. My phone vibrated, dancing its way nearly out of my reach. I picked it up, hoping it wasn’t a last minute kiss off text from the Kamana people, though they closed two hours prior.

Went out for a night walk and noticed that your lights are on. You can’t possibly still be awake at this hour, can you? –T

I’m not sure awake is an accurate representation of my state of consciousness, but I am not currently sleeping, so…technically, yeah. –M

I waited for his reply for a few minutes, but nothing came through. Figuring he might have gotten a call or had fallen asleep, I set the phone back on the table and returned to work. The text changes were easy, but then I realized the menus needed to be adjusted to remove several links. My ability to focus was fading fast, so I cranked up the volume on my iPod, hoping it would give me enough of a boost to power through. I ignored my mother’s voice in my head saying ‘Turn that down, young lady. Do you want to end up deaf? Everyone will think I’m a terrible mother!’ Junkie XL’s ‘Beauty Never Fades’ came on and I sighed happily…exactly what I needed. I put it on repeat.

The third time through I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye…my phone was doing the jig again. I paused the song and nabbed it just as it started to go over the edge of the desk. There were six texts, all from Tom.

“Damn.” I frowned and began to scroll through them.

I’m out in the hallway with a little surprise for you. Hope that’s okay. –T

Hmm, you aren’t answering your door. –T

Does that mean it’s NOT okay? – T

Still knocking. Can’t be too loud, don’t want to wake the neighbors. –T

Hope you’re alright in there. Starting to fret a bit. Ease my mind and reply, please. –T

Maude, I know you’re in there, I can hear you singing. –T

The phone vibrated in my hand as I yanked out my earbuds, got up, and headed for the door. I undid the bolt and flung it open to find Tom in a white V-neck and navy shorts with an orange-red stripe, pacing and staring at his phone. He raised his head, exhaling seemingly with relief when he saw me. I spotted a carryout tray with two cups in it on the floor, as well as what appeared to be a bag of Lindor truffles. When I lifted my head to meet his gaze and instead caught him in the act of looking me up and down, I suddenly remembered that I was clad only in a thin T-shirt and panties. His eyes finally met mine again, lips parted just enough for his tongue to slip out and graze over them. I began fanning myself with my hand.

“Is it me or is it ridiculously warm tonight?” He said not a word, continuing staring at me with an intensity that made me want to push him down and ride him like a pony right there in the hallway.

“Yeah. Anyway. I had my iPod turned way up so I wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel, as they say, and totally didn’t hear you knocking. And my phone was on vibrate too. Not that I would have heard it ring if it wasn’t. So. Really, really sorry about that.” I pointed to the truffles. “Please tell me that those are for me. And that the beverages are caffeinated.”

He shook his head as if to clear it and smiled as he put his phone in his pocket, then bent over to pick up the carryout tray. He took two steps towards the door. “Yes, and yes. But I’m afraid you can’t have them unless you invite me in.”

I snorted, stepping back to hold the door for him. “I’d invite Freddy Kruger in if he had Lindor Truffles and caffeine.” He didn’t move. “What? Damn you British and your impeccable manners. Thomas, would you care to enter my temporary domicile?”

He grinned. “Why yes, I thought you’d never ask.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“You’d best get in here before I snatch that tray out of your hands and slam the door in your face.” He chuckled. I poked him in the chest. “I wasn’t joking.”

He patted my upper arm. “Oh, I’m aware. That’s why it’s funny.” He set the tray on the desk. “You have quite a lovely singing voice, by the way. Have you had any vocal training?”

“Thanks. And no, unless you count the band I was in a thousand years ago when I was young and didn’t know any better. Or when I’m driving. Or working. Or in the grocery store.” I rolled my eyes. “Or everyone’s favorite, when I think of the perfect song for the moment and belt it out no matter the location or company.”

He was leaning on the desk, legs and arms crossed, head tilted. “Do you like to dance, Maude?”

“No, I don’t like to dance.” I watched his face fall a bit. Such an easy mark. “I love to dance. Sometimes I even dance and sing at the same time. It all depends upon how the spirit moves me. Right now it’s moving me towards those truffles, though. Will you do the honors and open them, please?”

I put my phone on the table, walked over to the wardrobe, pulled a pair of cut-off sweatpants out of the drawer and slipped them on. Tom grabbed one of the oversized wing back chairs and dragged it over to the desk for himself. I sat back down in my spot, pulled the earbud jack out of the iPod, put it into shuffle mode and lowered the volume from ‘dance club’ to ‘study session’. He proffered the bag and I took a handful of truffles. I unwrapped one and popped it in my mouth.

“Ung. These are SO good.” I swallowed. “How did you manage to score these at one in the morning?”

“I’ll have you know that they are from my own personal stash. Which I normally never share. With anyone. But, being that you were generous enough to share your cookies with me earlier, I felt it was only fair to reciprocate in kind.” I nodded.

“Let’s not forget about the baked mozzarella, the parmesan fries and the fettucine alfredo I ‘shared’. Totally against my will.” I devoured two more tiny balls of chocolatey goodness. “So, you travel with candy. I would have accepted Luke’s offer immediately and without question if I’d known that.”

He laughed and handed me one of the to-go cups. “Earl Grey tea with a splash of cream. I figured you’d take it with sugar but wasn’t sure how much, so I brought these.”

He pulled a handful of sugar packets out of his pocket and put them on the desk. I took the lid off and took five sugars from the pile. They were warm to the touch, and knowing they had just been so close to his skin made me a little lightheaded. Or maybe it was just lack of sleep. Sure, Maude, keep telling yourself that. I shook my head.

“Damn, did I get that wrong? Luke said you asked for tea earlier so I assumed…” I cut him off.

“Nope, I’m a tea all the way. Coffee makes me ragey for some reason. Let me guess, you travel with teabags too?” He grinned.

“Indeed I do. I got the cups, tray and hot water from the all-night gas station down the road.”

I furrowed my brow. “So you did all this in, like, 15 minutes?” He held his hands out and shrugged, blushing slightly.

“Actually, I stopped at the gas station on the night walk I mentioned when we were texting.” I put the lid back on my tea and swirled it around to mix in the sugar. He pulled a plastic stirrer out of his other pocket and handed it to me, sighing as he realized I’d most likely have guessed that this encounter wasn’t at all spontaneous after hearing what he’d just said. He smiled self-consciously.

I reached out to put a hand on his knee, but he had begun sliding out of the chair towards the desk so he could grab his beverage and it wound up on his bare inner thigh instead. I could feel the muscle tighten under my hand, his hips thrusting upward reflexively in spite of his valiant effort to resist. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, opening them when I felt his hand on top of mine through his shorts. His jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring as he tried to control his breathing. My pulse was pounding in my ears and in my head and in my chest…and, most noticeably, in my groin. We exhaled in unison. He spoke first, taking my free hand in his.

“Maude, I…I am so, so sorry…I didn’t…” I shook my head vehemently.

“Thomas. Please. Don’t you dare apologize for what was perhaps the most sexually exciting moment of my life.” I bit my lip again, leaned in closer and raised an eyebrow. “So far.” He began rubbing my wrist with this thumb, his face a kaleidoscope of emotions.

“You…you’re…you aren’t offended?” He looked puzzled.

“By the fact that just putting my hand on your thigh earned me a pelvic thrust? Um, no. Nope. Not even a little.” I squeezed his hand. “Why would you think I’d be offended by a physical expression of something we’ve been bantering back and forth about for hours? And let’s not forget that you’ve literally seen me naked already.”

He shook his head. “I’m…I…damn. That’s not really what I meant. I was more referring to the idea that I’d arrived with tea and truffles not to spend time with you, but instead as a ruse to get you into bed. I didn’t. Honestly. I just don’t want you to think less of me, or that I don’t respect you, or that this is how I conduct myself with women I’ve just met, despite what most of the world seems to believe, and most importantly I absolutely don’t want you to conclude that I think you’re just another notch on my belt and that all I want from you is sex because that couldn’t be further from the truth …god, I’m fucking this up royally, aren’t I?” His chin fell to his chest.

I let go of his hand so I could touch his face. “You most certainly are not.”

We were both silent for what seemed like an eternity, La Roux’s “Tigerlily’ playing softly in the background.

“I could be here when you call  
I’ll make you top of the list  
And in the crush of the dark  
I’ll be your light in the mist  
I can see you burning with desire for a kiss  
Psychobabble all upon your lips”

He slowly raised his head as the chorus repeated, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and holding my hand to his face. I’d heard the song a hundred times, and sung it nearly as many, but suddenly the lyrics held meaning I could have never envisioned. The look in his eyes told me they resonated with him as well.

I slid the hand that was still on his thigh out from under his shorts and got up from my chair, closing the space between us in a single step. He looked up at me, eyes wide, as I climbed into his lap and straddled him. I felt his arm wrap around my waist as I leaned in and touched my lips to his. They were warm, and soft, and I couldn’t resist running my tongue across them. He opened his mouth to me in invitation, and I accepted with boundless enthusiasm. He tasted of chocolate, with a faint hint of something spicy I didn’t recognize. He bit my bottom lip before thrusting his tongue out to meet mine, and I seized the moment to capture and begin sucking on it. He groaned loudly and yanked the tie from my hair, freeing it so he could bury his fingers in my curls. Time seemed to have come to a screeching halt as we devoured each other, completely lost in the moment, until our teeth crashed together with such force that it made my ears ring and brought us back to reality.

I was panting like I’d run a six minute mile. “Shit. You okay?”

His chest heaved as he grinned. “I am positively divine, thank you.” I responded by grinding my pelvis against him, then pushed myself up and off his lap. “Maaauuuuuuddde. Where. Are. You. Going.”

I shimmied out of my sweat-shorts and returned to my spot, grinding against him again. “Mmm, that’s much better.” I dragged my hand down his chest and stomach, smirking as I slipped it under the hem of his V-neck. “May I?”

He leaned forward and lifted his arms over his head. I peeled it off slowly, drinking in the sight of his naked torso. Tossing the shirt to the side, I leaned in and licked the hollow above his collarbone. He gasped, and I traversed to his left nipple, first biting it gently, then suckling. His long, low moan was intoxicating, making me dizzy with want. I felt the warmth of his hand on the skin of my back as he pushed my T-shirt upward. I pulled back and raised my arms above my head before he even had a chance to ask for permission. He laughed.

“Eager, are we?” His voice was deeper than usual, throaty and full of ardor.

“You have no idea.” I was blinded momentarily as he finished removing my shirt. When my view was once again unobstructed, the intensity in his stare as he gazed from my breasts to my face then back again made me wonder if spontaneous combustion was in my near future. He let out a low whistle.

“Oh, but I believe I do, Maude. I believe I do.” He took one in each hand, running a thumb over each already rock hard nipple, then pulled me forward to take one in his mouth. It was my turn to gasp, and I wound my fingers in his hair, holding him to me. He alternated from one to the other, and I felt his hand creep down my stomach, finally reaching my mound and cupping it gently. My panties were soaked through. He let my nipple go with a pop and looked up at me, eyes dark and pupils blown wide with desire.

“My apologies, you were, in fact, correct…I had no idea.” He slid his hand under the elastic waistband, whining audibly when it met skin that was waxed bare and dripping wet. He tugged at the fabric, unable to utter anything other than “Off. Please.”

I stood, pushing them down over my legs, then kicked them off. I paused for a moment to take him in, my eyes resting on the bulge tenting his shorts that made it glaringly obvious he had opted for going commando this evening. I stepped between his legs, leaning down to slip my hands under his shorts at the waist. I hesitated, knowing we were near the point of no return but hadn’t covered all our bases. I looked up at him.

“So. Tests?” It took him a moment to piece together what I was getting at.

“Yes. Last year. Clean. No one since. You?”

“2010. Clean. No one since. On the pill.” His eyes widened in surprise and I didn’t wait for him to comment. “Yes, five years. I’m very…particular.” I grabbed onto his waistband and pulled with one hand, tapping his hip with the other. “Lift.”

He raised his hips up and I eased the shorts over his erection, then slipped them off his ass and down his legs. He smiled as I licked my lips, then grunted as I took him in hand. At least eight inches of glorious purpose, and almost too thick for me to get my fingers around. I leaned in to whisper in his ear as I stroked up and down, squeezing, pausing now and again to run my thumb over his weeping slit.

“It’s no wonder Loki thinks he deserves a throne. THIS is the cock of a king.” He growled, a sound so low and deep that I could actually see his chest vibrating, and began to lift himself up off the chair.

I let go of his cock and put both hands on his shoulders, pushing him firmly back into a seated position as I nestled my knees on either side of his hips. He raised his brows quizzically, eyes narrowed.

“No bed?” I shook my head. He looked down at himself, then back at me, concerned. It finally dawned on me what he was getting at, and I supposed that his size might be a challenge for some women if they weren’t sufficiently aroused. I shook my head again and rubbed my soaked pussy up and down his shaft, groaning as the tip hit my clit over and over.

“Nope.” Groan. “I’m good.” He reached between us, sliding two long fingers inside me. I came instantly, and the look on his face was priceless.

“Di..I…did you…did you just…” I rolled my hips and squeezed his fingers, grasping his face with both hands as I leaned in to pull his bottom lip into my mouth briefly. He moaned as he withdrew his fingers and brought them to my lips. I licked at them, then sucked them clean greedily. I felt him shudder as I rose up on my knees. He breathed deeply, inhaling and exhaling for a few moments as he tried to pull himself back from the edge.

“Maude.”

“Tom.”

“Not going to last long.”

“Don’t care.”

“I…I…Mau…”

I kissed him sloppily, cutting him off, then spoke.

“Thomas. William. Hiddleston. Shut up and fuck me already.”

Before I even got the ‘me already’ out the head of his cock was poised at my entrance, and our eyes locked as I pushed down and he pushed up, meeting no resistance and fully seating himself in a single thrust. He stared at me in wonder, mouth agape, gasping and grabbing onto my hips as I began to ride him.

“Maude…that…you…how…all of me…GOD…feels incredible…you…so warm…so WET.” He began thrusting, and I squeezed, matching his rhythm. His eyes rolled back in his head for a few seconds, then met mine again. “Close. Too close.” He maneuvered his hand between us again, rubbing my clit furiously with two fingers. I rolled my hips faster, chanting his name as my walls clenched around him.

“Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom.” Words quickly failed me and my chant devolved into a monosyllabic keen. His thrusts faltered, stuttering, and he cried out.

“Oh, Maude, god, Maude, oh FUCK, oh Maude…” I felt him pulsing inside me, come jetting in long, slow spurts, the edges of my vision going dark, hearing screaming as I came that I didn’t initially recognize as my own. 

***************************************************   
When I began to emerge from what I thought was a post-coital haze, Tom’s arms were wrapped tightly around my limp torso, holding me to his chest. My head lolled on his shoulder, his chin nuzzling my neck. I raised a leaden arm and set about rubbing his back. I felt him smile.

“Well hello there.” His voice was just above a whisper. As I raised my head to look at him, my body shifted and I realized he was still inside me. He smiled sheepishly when I met his gaze. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want to wake you.” I yawned.

“Mmm, I’m totally fine with staying this way forever.” I leaned back, cocking my head, puzzled. “Wake me? What do you mean, wake me?”

He grinned and kissed the tip of my nose. “It appears the vigorousness of our…activities…combined with the lateness of the hour exhausted you completely, resulting in your dozing off for a bit.”

I groaned. “Um, how long was I, you know, dozing?”

He traced my spine with his fingertips. “About fifteen minutes or so.”

I covered my eyes with my hand and shook my head. “Fuck. Me. Sideways.” He leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“Let’s save that for next time. You, darling, need to get some sleep.” I sighed, figuring he’d be out the door as soon as I was off his lap. I tried to reach my T-shirt, which was behind me on the floor, intending to use it to contain some of the mess when I got up. His was already in his hand. “Here, let me help.”

I lifted myself off him slowly, wondering how it was that my legs weren’t asleep. He gently nudged the shirt in place as his cock slid out of me. He was at half-mast. I bit my lip and rocked my hips. He chuckled as he put his hands under my arms to help me stand.

“Don’t tempt me, woman. It’s taking every ounce of my willpower to refrain from fucking you into that mattress all night long.” I whined. “But you have a very long day ahead of you and it’s well past 2 AM.” He walked me to the bathroom, closing the door after I went inside. I bundled up the shirt, tossing it on the floor as I sat on the bowl to pee, wiped, flushed, then brushed my teeth quickly. I opened the door, fully expecting him to be gone.

He was standing right outside, waiting, and kissed me quickly. “Do you have an extra toothbrush I can use?” I shook my head. “May I use yours, then?”

I nodded. “Sure. Yeah.”

I stood in my stupor, listening to the toilet flush again, the water running, him spitting…and suddenly there he was, naked, smiling, beautiful, and herding me over to the king size bed. He pulled back the covers, motioned for me to climb in and glanced at the clock.

“What time do you need to be up?” I blinked.

“Um, seven? I guess?” He set the alarm and stood next to the bed. I just stared at him. He grinned.

“Well, are you going to move over or would you prefer that I get in on the other side?” I moved over and rolled onto my side. He climbed in and nestled in against my back, arm around my waist. He kissed the top of my head.

“Goodnight, my Maude.”

I was sound asleep before I could return the sentiment.


	7. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Maude completes day one of her final seminars. Luke finds out they’re, um, involved. Yeah, yeah…there’s more smut. These two just can’t keep their hands off each other. If I try to deny them they pout like petulant children. So I give in to save my sanity. And hey, it’s their story, after all. I’m just the secretary. And, I promise, this all really IS going somewhere. There should be some excitement within the next chapter or two. If they stop fucking around. Literally. :P Hope you enjoy, feedback would be wonderful. Thank you for reading!

My eyes flew open and I abruptly raised my head, panic setting in as I scrambled to find the clock, hoping beyond hope that I hadn’t overslept. It read 6:52. Yee fucking haw, crisis averted and eight more minutes to sleep. As I laid my head back down on the pillow, I wondered how in the hell I’d managed to see what time it was. I explored my face with my hands and deduced that I’d slept with my glasses on. Oh, that’s how. Shit, shit, SHIT. I was about to inspect them for damage when I took note of something heavy and warm wedged between my legs. And pressed against my back. And resting across my stomach. And on my right boob. Memories of last night’s dalliance flooded my mind, and the panic I’d alleviated just moments ago came roaring back with a vengeance, conflicting with an undeniable, deep-seated hunger for more.

The fact that I’d expected him to leave and he hadn’t, and instead was right here, right now, snuggled against me, legs entwined with mine, was the root source of my anxiety. That and the fact that I hadn’t WANTED him to leave. Less than twenty-four hours had elapsed since we first met, yet we’d spent the night sleeping curled around each other. A level of closeness and intimacy had been established between us that I normally never permitted, no matter how much I craved or desired it. And it had happened in an instant, a heartbeat, without so much as a single protestation from me. I had let someone in, and the uncertainty of the consequences that might arise from this chink in my armor was incredibly unsettling.

There was one thing I was certain of…last night had been the hottest fucking of my life to date. I decided revisiting the details would be a welcome distraction and was midway through my internal video replay when I felt him stirring behind me, morning wood prodding firmly at the crack of my ass. Deep-seated hunger claimed its victory over panic as he purred in my ear.

“I’d like to inquire as to whether the offer to fuck you sideways still stands, please.” I thrust my hips back against him. “Mmm, I’d like to take that as a yes, but propriety dictates otherwise.”

I reached around to slap him on the ass. “How’s that for a yes, Thomas?” His cock twitched, and I lifted my left leg off of his, planting my foot firmly on the bed to allow him access. “Have at it, good sir.”

His entire body stiffened and I swiveled so I could see his face. For the second time in a few short hours, his pupils were blown wide, irises barely visible. He squeezed my breast, first massaging it then rolling the nipple between his index finger and thumb.

“Have at it? You’re serious?” His brows were so elevated it was almost comical. I grabbed his wrist and relocated his hand to my mound, shrugging.

“You tell me.”

He slid a finger into my slit and gasped. “Fuck, Maude. Are you always this wet? And this quickly?”

I chuckled. “Yes, Tom. Yes I am. Especially when there’s a beautiful man in my bed with his rock hard cock nestled in my ass crack asking for permission to fuck me.” He started to slowly circle my clit. I bucked up against his hand. “Orgasms happen to be one of my favorite pastimes. I masturbate. Frequently. I read erotica. I watch porn. I have a vibrator, and I’m not afraid to use it.” He pressed his pelvis forward, cock working its way between my lips. “Hmm, what else…oh, right. I know the precise location of my G-spot and I’m pretty sure after last night you may as well, so I would appreciate it immensely if you’d be kind enough to rub something up against it. Like, NOW.”

The clock alarm went off. I was sure it was out of the reach of my arm, but perhaps my leg…I lifted my foot from the bed and extended it as far as it could go, using my big toe to hit the snooze button. I grinned at Tom. “Yoga.”

He removed his hand from my pussy and grasped my leg behind my knee, holding it aloft as he entered me, pressing inside languidly. I attempted to speed things along but he held me in place. I whined.

“Ah, ah Maude. I’m in charge this time.” I tightened my muscles, squeezing him repeatedly. I could feel his focus shift, grip on my leg faltering, and I seized the moment, pushing backward to take him all in.

“I’m sorry, Tom, what were you saying?” The moan that escaped him was so loud it startled me. His lips crashed into mine, sucking, biting, tongues tangling, leaving me breathless. He began thrusting, unhurriedly, moving in and out and rolling his hips until he dragged across my G-spot just the right way, making me howl like a wild animal.

“FUCK, Tom. There. Right there. Harder. FUCKING HARDER!” He pounded vigorously, rocking me a little further forward on the bed with every thrust. “Yes. Yes yes yes yes yeeeesssss. Don’t stop, Tom, don’t you dare fucking STOP.” That spurred him on, pistoning in and out, squelching in my juices, that and the slapping of his hips on my ass the only sound in the room. I reached behind me to grab hold of him as my orgasm washed over me, muscles clenching around him, squeezing and squeezing as I rode out my bliss.

I gulped for air, trying to get my breathing under control. He was still moving, slowly, gently. He waited for me to recover, and when my hips began to cant he reached between my legs to rub my clit, pinioning it between his index and middle fingers, tugging it, stroking up and down. He nibbled on my earlobe.

“Think you can come again, Maude?”

I growled. “Absofuckingloutely, Tom.”

He sped up, and I met him thrust for thrust. His mouth moved to my neck, sucking and biting as I mewled. His movements became erratic, jerky, rhythm faltering. The pace of his fingers quickened and I felt the fire spread in my belly, muscles tightening, craving release.

“Come with me, Maude. Please. Now. Please.” The naked desire in his voice, stripped bare of all the trappings, his unabashed need to share something so primal pushed me over the brink and I cried out his name, feeling him spurting deep within me as I convulsed around him. He wrapped both arms around me, burying his face in my hair.

We remained silent for several minutes, until I observed that our bodies had ended up nearly at the edge of the other side of the bed. I rolled over, instantly regretting it as he slipped out of me, meeting his gaze as I raised an eyebrow.

“Congratulations, Thomas. It appears you’ve managed to literally fuck me sideways.” He got up on an elbow, evaluated our position and burst out laughing. I giggled madly along with him. The alarm clock started screeching at us, snooze expired. I gave it a mildly abusive slap when I saw that it was 7:15. “Damn. I have to get my sorry ass in the shower, pronto. I need to be downstairs by 8:45 at the latest.”

He kissed me, then brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ears. His eyes wandered to my chest, and his hand reached out, gingerly touching my necklace. I’d forgotten I was still wearing it.

“This is a very unique piece. Do you mind sharing where it came from?” His expression was a mix of genuine curiosity and trepidation, and I realized that on some level he assumed it was from a boyfriend or lover…someone I’d cared for enough to warrant wearing it as a reminder even when the rest of me was naked. I shook my head.

“My father had it made for me when I graduated from high school in 1995. It’s black tourmaline. I’d always been fascinated by crystals, and this type is my favorite. It’s supposed to transform negative energy into positive energy.” I could feel the sadness rising in my chest. Shoving it back down quickly, I attempted to shift the topic with the aid of some self-deprecating humor. I feigned an exasperated sigh.

“Well, now the cat’s out of the bag….you’ll do the math and calculate my age, thereby discovering I’m nothing but a cradle-robbing crone.”

“You have grossly overestimated my ability to do math.” He kissed my forehead. “I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a day over 25.”

I snorted and grabbed his chin. “Oh, that is SO going to get you laid, Hiddleston.”

“That was the plan.” He threw a leg over me, pushed himself up and straddled my waist. The view was spectacular, and I couldn’t help but notice that he was almost fully erect again. I rolled my eyes.

“Dude, I honestly don’t know which of us is worse. You’re incorrigible. I’m incorrigible. It’s sexual anarchy up in here.” He bent down to kiss me, roughly thrusting his tongue into my mouth, which I bit down on gently. He groaned, pulled back and hopped off the bed, hand extended.

“I suppose I’ll have to take one for the team and don the mantle of responsibility this time around.” I took his hand and he pulled me up, smacking my ass as soon as I was standing. “Go get that luscious booty in the shower.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Did you just use the word ‘booty’? Hmpf. Someone’s T-Hiddy is showing. And yes, I read Tumblr.” He flung himself back on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles and arms behind his head, smiling widely.

“Shall I order in breakfast?” I tried to stop staring at him. I really did. But he looked like a Michelangelo sculpture and all I wanted to do was dive back in and fuck him all day long, seminars be damned. He clucked his tongue at me.

“Maude? Breakfast?” I reluctantly shifted my gaze to his face.

“Right, right. Breakfast. Eggs. Sunnyside up. White buttered toast. Bacon. Lots and lots of bacon. And tea. Maybe some juice? Thanks.” He picked up the in-room phone and began placing our order as I headed for the bathroom, trying very hard to not drip come all over the carpet as I went.

**************************************  
There was a knock on the bathroom door as I was rinsing my hair, and it suddenly crossed my mind that someone else might need to make use of the facilities. I spent so much time alone that such things were never an issue, and I had no clue what the protocol for this should be.

“Tom? You can totally come in and do whatever needs doing.” The door opened, a whoosh of cooler air making the steam swirl around prettily.

“I was wondering if you had a T-shirt similar in size to the one you had on last night that I might borrow…and, yes, I…erm…well…actually…” I knew without looking that a blush was creeping up his neck. I poked my head out from behind the curtain, but without my glasses all I could see was a vague blurry person-shape.

“I have no problem whatsoever with you draining the lizard while I’m in here. Though in your case it’s more like draining the dragon. Anyway. Other bodily functions are perfectly acceptable as well. Ya gotta, go, ya gotta go. Plus, that’s why god made exhaust fans.” I pulled the curtain shut. “I can’t see anything at all through this, not to mention I’m blind without glasses, in case that was a concern. T-shirts are in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. They’re all 2X, so a little big for you but that’s preferable because if I have to look at you in another tight shirt I’m never going to make it to my seminar.” I heard the toilet flush as I soaped myself, followed by the sound of Tom brushing his teeth.

Though the shower had memory settings for water temperatures, it lacked a detachable shower massage. Trying to properly rinse my crotch with a stream that was four feet above it seemed ludicrous, and I was precariously balanced with one leg up on the edge of the tub and an arm extended behind me as a brace so I could lean way back to try and get the job done. I was so absorbed in the task I didn’t hear the curtain open. He cleared his throat, scaring me half to death. I yelped, then squinted at him, growling.

He laughed. “I’m so sorry. Couldn’t help but sneak a peek at a wet, soapy, naked Maude.” Someone began knocking at the door. “I suppose I’ll need to get that. I hope it’s just breakfast and not Luke. Or a search party he’s hired.”

“Does he not know you were…out?”

“I figured he’d hazard a guess, but I could be wrong.” The door clicked shut as he exited the bathroom, which rendered hearing what was going on outside as I finished rinsing nearly impossible.

Stepping carefully over the tub rim, I grabbed a towel and commenced with drying myself off, wondering why I hadn’t given a blessed thought to what Luke would make of all this. He’d just hired me yesterday, and here I was fucking his client. And mine.

I put on my glasses, opened the bathroom door a crack and sighed with relief when I spotted the room service cart just inside the room door. Tom, having donned one of my black T-shirts, was pacing and speaking briskly to someone on the phone. Everything descended into a foggy haze as my glasses protested against the temperature change.

“Luke. Enough. We’re adults. Professional people. This won’t be a problem.” He paused, listening. “Oh, please. I seem to recall someone going to dinner and clubbing with Simon immediately after his interview, followed by a walk of shame the morning after. So you really aren’t in a position to judge, are you?” Another pause. “Are you inferring that on the job romance is a valid concept when it applies to your life, but not to mine?” Tom stopped and threw his free hand up in the air. “Well, fucking FINALLY. So, what time will they be here?”

I had quietly made my way out of the bathroom and was tiptoeing around Tom in an effort to reach the wardrobe. “Well, that completely blows my day out of the water, but if they want me to be involved at that level I suppose I shouldn’t complain.” He rolled his eyes. “I was planning on having dinner with Maude. Oh, shut up you tosser. Call them and confirm. Thanks, mate. You want to talk to her?”

I shook my head frantically. He put the phone on speaker. I flipped him off.

“Good morning, Luke.”

“Good morning, Maude. Ready for your last hurrah?”

It took me a few seconds to process what he was referring to. “Oh, yep. Ready as I’ll ever be. Filming it and everything.”

“Will you have time tomorrow night after hula class to sit down and go over our schedules?”

“You betcha.”

“Great. Good luck with everything today. Enjoy your breakfast. I’d imagine your energy needs significant replenishing after being so busy last night with work and all.” Tom grabbed the phone and was about to tell him to shut it when I pulled it back.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe how busy I was, Luke. But I love ge…I mean BEING busy. You’re right, I am in dire need of sustenance. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tom hung up on him, shaking his head. “Sorry about that. He has no right to comment on any of this. He met his fiancé, Simon, when he interviewed him to be his PA. He hired him on the spot, they stayed out all that night, and have been together ever since.” I pulled on some underwear, walking over to him with my bra straps up over my shoulders.

“It’s fine. Perfectly understandable that he’d be concerned.” I turned my back to him. “Hook me, please? Second row.” I could feel his hands shaking slightly as he worked the clasps together. I spun around and took his hands in mine.

“Tom? You okay?” He bit his lip, frowning.

“The executives from Legendary are flying in and want to meet tonight about Skull Island. We need to go over details and the new shooting schedule, and they want my input on casting choices. Which is great, but they won’t be here until around six and we’re having dinner at eight and I have no idea how late it’s going to run so I’m afraid may not be able to see you tonight. I’m terribly sorry, Maude.” He leaned down to look into my eyes, trying to gauge my reaction before I spoke, giving me the distinct feeling that his frequent, and often lengthy, absences had been a significant issue in past relationships. I gave his hands a gentle squeeze.

“The seminar doesn’t end until four, and then I have to sit down with the editing department at Kamana Media to go over all of the footage, so I won’t be done until nine at the earliest. If I’m lucky. That, in conjunction with a day spent dealing with two hundred plus people, will most likely make introverted me either want to cry or kill someone. Which would make me incredibly poor company, so let’s consider it a blessing in disguise.” He pulled me to him, enfolding me in his arms.

“You can’t possibly be an introvert.” I peered up at him, nodding emphatically.

“Too much time surrounded by too many people drains me dry. If I don’t take time to recharge my batteries, I turn into a horribly wicked bitch. Present company, excluded from ‘people’, obviously.” He touched his forehead to mine.

“Duly noted. Breakfast on the balcony?” 

“Sounds dreamy. I’m fucking starving.” I marched over to open the doors, not realizing until the breeze hit me that I was in my underwear. I turned around to see Tom standing with his arms crossed, one side of his mouth curled upward in a half-smile. I face palmed and shook my head. “I’m going to get arrested for public indecency one of these days, I just know it.”

“Maude, it is my fondest wish that I’m an active participant in whatever escapade causes that to occur.”

**************************************  
Tom cleaned up our breakfast dishes, placing them neatly on the room service cart, then moved it out into hallway for retrieval. I stripped off the tank top and shorts I had worn while we dined…mainly because I had zero faith in my ability to consume grease-laden bacon without making a mess of my professional attire. Turns out it was the dippy eggs that wound up making me their bitch, the giant yellow crusty splotch across my chest serving as a testament to their claim.

A khaki linen tunic hanging in the wardrobe caught my eye, which worked perfectly when paired with white linen Capri pants, my Floral Crush print Birkenstocks and a seven-crystal silver necklace. When I turned on the bathroom light to work on taming my tangled lion’s mane so it could pass for human hair, I beheld the rather large love bite on the left side of my neck. It was a good bit below my ear, at least two inches long and an inch wide, in vivid red, purple and bluish hues. I prodded it, first hissing at the pain, then shivering with pleasure at the thought of its origin.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that I’d have to spend my day not only in front of a room full of people, but in front of a camera as well. “Son of a bitch.” 

Tom called in to me. “Maude? Is something the matter?” I could hear him walking towards the bathroom. He saw my reflection in the mirror, smiled and leaned in to kiss my neck, pushing my hair aside. “You look amazing, darl…” His eyes widened. “Oh, shit. That’s…that’s fucking HUGE. And you’re being filmed today, aren’t you? I am so, SO sorry.” He started chuckling, tried to compose himself, failed miserably and wound up bent over with his hands on his knees instead, guffawing.

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “I’m getting the impression that you’re not a single, solitary bit sorry, Thomas.” He stood up and grabbed my upper arms from behind, liquid fire replacing the jovial gleam in his eyes.

“Actually, seeing my mark on you makes me want to bend you over and fuck you, right here on the counter in front of the mirror, so I can watch you watching me as I hammer my cock into you over and over again until you scream.” I closed my eyes and exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. He let go of my arms, his reflection smirking at me.

“But since we’re short on time, I fear I’ll need to attempt to make that less noticeable instead. Do you have any cover up? And neutral tone eyeshadow?” I pointed to the tiny makeup bag. I wore it very infrequently, and when I did it was just muted shades with a little lipstick and mascara. I had discovered rather quickly that my former gothic style didn’t exactly fit in with my career aspirations after leaving Anne’s employ.

I held my hair back, watching in the mirror as Tom worked his magic. By the time he was done it was barely visible, and if I left my hair down no one would be the wiser. “Can you maybe write that down for me so I can do this again in the morning?” He turned me around and moved me directly under the fluorescent light, tilting my head to the side.

“Well, would you look at that …good to know all those hours sitting in the make-up chair weren’t a total waste of time, eh? I’ll text you instructions later. Though I’d much prefer to be here in person to take care of it for you.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, sighing. “It’s 8:35.”

I walked to the toilet, turned around and started to pull my pants down. “Sorry, need to pee before I leave…first bathroom break isn’t until 10:45.” He remained, putting the make-up away, then headed out to the main area. By the time I joined him he had packed up my laptop and was loading it into my bag, along with my tablet and iPod.

“I saved all the things you had open, but your battery is at 20% so you should probably plug it in. I put two waters from the fridge in there for you, too.” When I didn’t respond, he turned to look at me. I was staring, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head. “Um…no. No. Not at all. I…ah…I’m just not used to having, you know, help, I guess.” The smile he flashed lit up the room, making me a good bit weak in the knees as I reached for the messenger bag.

“Keycard and car keys are in there as well. And ‘Finders, Keepers’. May I walk you to the conference room?” I nodded, still incapable of forming a coherent sentence. “Here, let me carry that for you.” He snatched the bag away from me, slinging it over his shoulder as we walked out the door.

**************************************  
Tom kept me company until the videographers from Kamana arrived. I was completely taken aback when he introduced himself, spiritedly shaking hands with Dante and Serena and asking questions about their equipment. He glanced at the conference room clock and excused himself when he saw that it was 9:15, apologizing for taking up so much of their time and kissing me on the cheek as he left. I couldn’t be positive, but I thought I may have heard Serena aw-ing under her breath as she poked Dante’s bicep. You and me both, Serena. You and me both.

As soon as the seats were filled, a switch flipped in my brain and I became Maude Gallagher, LLC. The attendees were intently focused, eyes on me, listening attentively to what I had to say. Fingers flew over keyboards and tapped on screens as they scrambled to take notes. Before I knew it, 10:45 had arrived and I was dismissing everyone for their first fifteen minute break. I pulled out my phone on my way to the bathroom, and it vibrated in my hand just as I locked the stall door behind me.

It should be break time now so I thought I’d say hello. So, hello. Hope everything is going well. – T

I had barely finished reading that one when another came through.

And, I hope you don’t think this is an utterly ridiculous thing to say, but…I miss you. Quite terribly, actually. – T

Not at all ridiculous. Feel the same way. In the bathroom, BRB. – M

I finished up my business, washed my hands and began working my way back to the conference room, typing as I went.

Sorry about that. Again, not ridiculous. It’s taking every bit of willpower I possess to not run out of here screaming. :P – M

There are approximately 8,452 things I want to talk with you about. That’s how many I’ve had time to write down, anyway. So far. - T

Well, I have 8,457 so…winner, winner chicken dinner. :D – M

Is that a southern thing? :P – T

I think it has pervaded all areas, but it’s much more amusing with a southern accent. – M

He didn’t reply for several minutes.

Maude, I feel like every moment of time up until we met was never even half as important as I thought it was. Like it was all a dream, with me sound asleep, waiting for you to awaken me so my life could finally begin. – T

I wept as I read it. Because it made perfect sense. Because I understood. Because I felt exactly the same way. It was pure insanity. A complete departure from who I thought I was, who I had tried to be. Not even remotely connected to reality. Yet, there it was. Two days ago he was a stranger I criticized as part of making my living, and now…he was the reason that made me, maybe, just maybe, want to live again.

You still there? – T

Yes. Sorry. Have to get back to work. But, first, two things. One, you made me weep. –M

Tears? :/ – T

Incredibly feelsy, happy, joyful tears. – M

Phew. Happy tears, okay. - T.

And two, thank you for that, Thomas. Suffice to say you aren’t the only one. XO – M

Not to change the subject, but you’re in a rush, so…do you get a lunch break? – T

Yes, but Serena and Dante want to spend it looking over footage to see if they’re on the right track. Sigh. – M

Damn. I’ll just have to send you naughty texts instead. – T

You’d best not, or I’ll be crashing your dinner meeting and dragging you into the loo for a quickie. – M

Promises, promises. – T

We’re starting here. Gotta go. Talk to you later. – M

XO – T

The rest of the day flew by in a blur, with me having to continually rein in my errant thoughts and cease pondering unanswerable questions. The footage from the morning had looked decent, so we carried on as planned and headed to the Kamana studios as soon as the seminar was over. It was after ten when I got back to the hotel, completely peopled out. I fired off a quick text to Tom to let him know I had arrived safely. We’d been chatting all day when time permitted, and while it wasn’t even in the same stratosphere as being in his presence, it was actually easier to converse in such a manner since the possibility of fucking at any moment wasn’t a constant distraction.

I carefully removed my clothes and hung them up…since Dante intended to combine the best of both seminars, it was essential that I looked exactly the same tomorrow as I had today, which meant wearing the same outfit again. And, miracle of miracles, I hadn’t gotten either lunch or dinner on myself so they were actually still clean.

The room looked…different. I couldn’t tell why, initially, but abruptly came to the conclusion that it was because I could see the floor again. The bed was made as well. I opened the wardrobe back up…there hung my dress from yesterday. My favorite sleeping shirt was tucked away in its drawer, as were my shorts, underwear, and bras. I grabbed my phone off the dresser.

Dude, all my stuff is clean and hung up and shit. Would you happen to know anything about this???? – M

Only have a minute. Waiting for execs to come back from bathroom. Someone did your laundry? – T

Thomas, did you do my laundry? Because I don’t think I can deal with it if you did my fucking laundry. It’s just…too…too… and how did you even…shit, you totally took one of the keycards, didn’t you? – M

Yes. Yes I did. Sorry, not sorry. :P - T

You’re too much. Seriously. – M

My motivation was purely selfish…everything smelled of you. I may or may not have sullied a pair of your knickers in the process. But you’ll never know which ones now, will you? – T

I don’t suppose you charged the batteries for my vibrator while you were skulking around? Seems I might have need of it this evening. – M

Execs heading my way. I should stand when they reach the table, but…no can do. In case I don’t catch you before you sleep, goodnight, my Maude. – T

I’ll be thinking of you, Thomas. Over and over. And over. :P Sleep well. – M

I set the phone back down on the dresser, then spent entirely too much time picking up each pair of my underwear individually, silently inquiring ‘is THIS the one he jerked off into?’ as I squirmed, shifting my weight from leg to leg and clenching my thighs together. Yanking my suitcase from its spot near the bathroom, I fished around until I found my vibrator. It appeared to be in perfect working order, but I charged the batteries, just in case. If it crapped out in the middle of my fun I would be rather…disconcerted.

Yawing, I unhooked my bra and stuffed it neatly in with its companions, pulled out my sleep shirt and slipped it over my head. The laptop was still in my bag, and after turning it on and opening Word to write the letter I should have completed last night, I found that couldn’t come up with a blessed thing. I sat, staring, watching the cursor blink repeatedly, mocking me.

I gave the screen the finger and stuck out my tongue. “Yeah, fuck you too. Asshole.” Maybe I’d have better luck modifying the site menus. Coding and designing always drew me in, allowing me to disappear for hours on end, serving as a virtual pause button for all the other activity running amok in my brain. One change led to another and before I knew it I’d reworked the entire layout and theme of the site. The system tray clock read 12:47 when I hit the save icon.

“Gee, Maude, maybe you should get some fucking sleep at some point.” I got up to check my phone. Nothing from Tom. I sat back down to glare at my cursor some more. After 45 minutes, I’d finally come up with something I could deem acceptable.

Hi all,

If you’ve worked with me in the past or attended one of my seminars, you’re most likely aware that I tend to be rather voluble. Which makes it rather ironic that, as I sit here at my desk on the beautiful island of Kaua’i, attempting to pen this missive, I‘ve found myself at a loss for words. Thankfully, I’m able to fall back on another one of my qualities…cutting to the chase. So, without further ado, here we go.

I’ve accepted a position with a private company, effective immediately, and will no longer be lecturing or consulting.

Believe me, it’s just as much a shock to me as it is to you. Completely unexpected, yet exactly what I was looking for. Though I had no idea that I was looking. For anything. Life’s funny like that, isn’t it? I feel a bit like Bilbo Baggins. Does this mean second breakfast can be a thing for me now?

Do note that my seminars will be available for you to purchase here within the next few weeks, and I intend to keep this site running indefinitely. Feel free to help yourself to the information it contains. Apologies, but I won’t be able to answer questions, address concerns and so on.

I am eternally grateful to you all, as without your support and patronage the success of Maude Gallagher, LLC would have never been possible. I simply can’t thank you enough for making my dream a reality, and I wish you all the best in your own endeavors.

I’ll see you around,

Maude

I saved my work, uploaded the site and posted a link on all my social media accounts. Doing so had imparted a soothing sense of finality for me, but at the same time seemed to deplete every ounce of energy that remained in my body. It appeared the date I’d planned with my vibrator would need to be rescheduled. I barely managed to drag myself over to the bed and pull the covers back, eyes closing as I slid between them. I felt something on my cheek…scratchy, paper-like. It was a note from Tom, writing on hotel stationery.

I miss you, Maude, and wish I was there to hold you tonight. – Tom

His handwriting was messy, like mine, but beautiful, flourishing. I put my glasses on the nightstand and turned out the light. As I pulled them up to my ears, I noticed that the linens positively reeked of our mingled scents. I smiled sleepily, still clutching his note in my hand as I dozed off.


	8. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maude’s final seminar day. She has a little chat with Anne Rice, and we get another glimpse into her past. Hula happens. Shockingly, mainly innuendo and no full on smut. And fluff. Thanks, as always, for reading. Feedback would rock and is much appreciated. I thought we’d already be to the point where Maude spills her entire past, but…she’s decided to reveal it in drips and drabs for the moment. Hope you enjoy!

I managed to wake up on time, despite the fact that I’d forgotten, yet again, to set my alarm. After putting on my glasses, I padded over to the dresser to grab my phone. I checked my notifications as I crawled back under the covers and saw there were four texts waiting for me, three of them from Tom sent late last night.

Meeting’s finito. They dragged us out for drinks. It’s 3:00 AM. I want to see you. – T

Mean Nanny Luke says it’s too late and he hid your room key from me. Asshole. – T

We meeting again with Skull people again at 11 morning tomorrow. 3:17. Bed. Night. – T

I figured he’d still be out cold and I was overwhelmed by the urge to ring his phone and rouse him unpleasantly, solely for my own amusement. I resisted, telling myself that he surely would have turned it off prior to retiring for the night. So tempting, but I decided to take the high road instead.

Good morning, Thomas. Hope you and Luke managed to get some rest and that the meeting goes well. Looking forward to seeing you both later. – M

The fourth was from Anne, sent fifteen minutes ago.

Hey kiddo, I’d love it if you’d give me a call. It’s been entirely too long since we last talked. – A

While it wasn’t a complete surprise to hear from her, given Luke had spoken with her yesterday, I honestly hadn’t expected it to happen so damn soon. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I closed my eyes for a few moments, exhaled and decided to postpone dealing with it and order breakfast instead.

My stomach grumbled as I reviewed the room service menu, my index finger tapping my lips. I grabbed the in-room phone and dialed, and my call was answered on the first ring by an obnoxiously pleasant-sounding woman.

“Good morning, Ms. Gallagher. What can we get for you today?”

Funny, they hadn’t a clue who I was when I’d ordered in over the weekend. I guess Tom Hiddleston answering your door when a meal for two was delivered elevated one’s social status.

“Good morning to you as well. May I please have an order of Belgian waffles with bacon, a large orange juice and a cup of tea? Earl Grey if you have it, sugar and cream on the side. Thanks!”

There was dead air for a few seconds. “Will that be all?” I rolled my eyes. Subtle, lady, really subtle. Sorry to disappoint, but he’s not here at the moment.

“Yep, that’s if for now, thank you.”

“Your meal should arrive in approximately twenty minutes. Aloha!”

I re-read Anne’s text and sighed, running a hand through my hair. If I called her now I could use the arrival of my meal as an excuse to get off the phone, though twenty minutes could seem like an eternity if the conversation turned to a topic I didn’t care to discuss, which it always seemed to do.

“Come on, Maude. Like a Band-Aid, right off. Pee first, then call. That should waste at least two minutes, more if you walk really slow.”

After the bathroom, I sank down into the oversized wing-back chair, phone in hand. My heart began to pound as I located her in my contacts, under ‘L’ for Lestat because it amused me to no end when ‘Lestat calling…’ came up on my screen. Anne had been a part of my life since I was ten years old. In 1988, only a few months after my parents had moved into the neighborhood, she’d returned to the Garden District of New Orleans. After rejoining the Catholic Church she met my father, a devout Irish Catholic himself, and they became fast friends.

She’d been a friend to me as well, offering unwavering support and becoming my lifeline during some incredibly difficult times. One of the hardest decisions I’d ever had to make was distancing myself from her emotionally in order to force myself to move on as I tried to heal. Though it had been a necessity, I still felt terrible about it, and I deeply missed having her to turn to for comfort.

My hands clenched and grew clammy as the pounding of my heart morphed into a dull, throbbing pain. I silently vowed to cut her off immediately if our chat veered into the past and hit the ‘call’ button. 

“Maudie, honey! You took the job!” I wondered how the fuck she knew that already, then remembered she followed my twitter account and must have read the letter I linked to last night.

“Yes, Anne. I took the job. Though I wasn’t looking for one. And thanks for your glowing recommendation. Which established preconceived expectations that I will never be able to fulfill, by the way.”

“You will not only fulfill them, you will exceed them. Never underestimate your abilities, Maudie. You know better. So who is this Luke fellow? Is he as handsome as he sounds?”

I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling, trying to prepare myself for the onslaught of Matchmaking for Maude that was about to ensue. “He is indeed.”

I could picture the sly grin that had surely spread across her face. “So? Is he single?”

“No, Anne. He’s actually engaged.”

“Well, you’re very attractive and, you know, anything can happen…”

“And he’s gay.” I thought that would do the trick. It didn’t.

“You have to introduce him to Christopher.” At least I wasn’t the only victim of her matchmaking…she’d been trying to find Mr. Right for her son as well as me forever.

“I haven’t met his fiancé but I hear they’re deliriously happy. So what’s new with you? How’s my next Lestat installment coming along?”

“I’m still researching some things, but the initial draft is essentially complete. You know, I Googled up Prosper PR and went to the facebook page and that amazingly talented actor, what’s his name…right, Tom Hiddleston, is one of his clients. I would love for him to take on the role of Lestat when the reboot of the Vampire Chronicles gets underway. Will you be working with him? Plant that seed for me, will you? Hmm, maybe he’s single?”

The thought of Tom as Lestat de Lioncourt rendered me mute for a solid thirty seconds, followed by lord knows how many more as I attempted to figure out how to weasel my way around her last question.

“Maudie, are you still on the line?”

“I…erm…yeah. Still here. Sorry, I was…multitasking. I have no idea if he’s single or not.” I was grateful that she couldn’t see my face because she’d know I was full of shit if she got one look at me. “But yes, I am working with him. I’m starting as his social media manager, which he desperately needs because he has issues with keeping his existing accounts updated and his overall presence is lacking, to say the least. Once I’ve gotten him back on track I transition into the role of social media director for Prosper. But please keep that between us. We haven’t announced anything yet, though we’re meeting tonight to discuss timelines and such.”

She chuckled, and I cringed, realizing that she still knew me entirely too well. “No idea if he’s single or not my ass. Don’t lie to Auntie Anne. You’ve already met him, haven’t you? And he’s a component of the ‘we’ and ‘we’re’, isn’t he?” I said nothing. “That incredibly long pause, in conjunction with your use of ‘am’ as opposed to ‘will be’ working with him gave you away. So, is he as beautiful in person as he is on film? And is his personality as lovely as it appears to be in interviews?”

There was a knock at the door, and my gratitude for the delivery person’s impeccable timing was boundless. “Sorry, my breakfast is here and I have to dash becau…”

She cut me off. “Maude, I did want you to call so I could congratulate you, but I also wanted to speak with you about something else. Your mother…”

I could feel every muscle in my body tensing. “Anne, how many times have I told you that I will NOT disc…”

“Please, hear me out. Her health is failing, Maude.”

“All those years of sucking down bottle after bottle of booze finally catching up with her?” The venom in my voice caught me completely off guard. As much as I insisted to myself that it was all behind me, the reality was that it was always with me, here, in the now… lurking just below the surface, ugly and dark and awful.

“I know, Maude, I know. And I hate to bring it up, but she’s in hospice and, well, I felt compelled to tell you in case you wanted to see her. Before it’s too late.” I counted to ten before I responded, focusing on all the positive things she’d done for me, hoping I could end the call courteously.

“Anne, I have to go. Be well.” I hung up before she could reply…and, thankfully, before I said something I’d wind up regretting.

**************************************************  
Breakfast was eaten in silence, but I’d showered and gotten ready with my iPod cranking out tunes from my ‘Fuck Off’ playlist. I’d even done a passable job on covering up the hickey. I frowned when I glanced at the clock. It was only 8:15, and I knew I had to keep moving or I’d start thinking again. As I stood on the balcony, gazing out at the azure water rolling in and out, I determined that a walk on the beach might be an ideal distraction.

Shoes in hand, messenger bag slung across my chest, I wandered down as far as I could go without getting soaked by the lapping waves. I breathed in, then out, in, and out, ever so slowly, trying to match the rhythm of the ocean. The sun warmed my face, my hands, my feet, my body…but it couldn’t quite reach into my heart. I closed my eyes and lowered my chin to my chest, using nothing but the sheer force of my will to shove the anger and pain back in the box I’d crafted for it so long ago.

I remained stock-still until the tide of somber memories began to ebb, carrying them further and further away from me, back into the turbulent sea of my past…where they fucking belonged. Always a part of me, but no longer controlling me. 

My eyes opened slowly as I raised my head, and I bent down to pick up a handful of sand, letting it sift through my fingers, just as I had less than forty-eight hours before. Everything I’d overcome, the life I’d made for myself, and the promise of what was to be hit me all at once and I could feel the corners of my mouth curl up in a tiny smile. I stood, took one last look at the ocean, then turned around and headed for the conference room.

I checked my phone as I slowly worked my way down the hall, deleting five new texts from Anne without reading them. Nothing from Tom, which I fully expected. He was probably still sound asleep, all cozy and warm. Bastard. I put the phone away and pulled out my tablet to check my email, cursing myself for not doing so since Monday afternoon. One hundred and fifty-eight messages in my inbox. Fuck. I scrolled down as I walked, starring items that were urgent, until I collided with another body. My tablet went flying, landing on the floor behind me. I bent to grab it without looking up, apologizing.

“I am SO sorry…totally my fault. Reading and walking is not my forte, apparently.” I turned as I rose, and the device fell from my hands and back onto the floor as I realized just whose body I’d run into.

He was wearing black shorts, a white T-shirt and a black sweatshirt that he’d left unzipped, the hood up over his head. Aviator sunglasses hid his eyes, but he quickly removed them as he spoke softly. “Good morning.”

He leaned down and picked up my tablet, slipping it into my messenger bag before encircling me with his arms. I slid mine under his sweatshirt, ran my hands up his back ever so slowly, finally coming to rest on his shoulder blades.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted to see you, but what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing up and about? It’s only 8:30. You’ve got another hour and a half to sleep, at least.” He bent to kiss me instead of replying, parting my lips gently with his tongue, then delving in to explore as his hands fell to my hips and pulled me against him. He was commando again, and rock hard. I groaned and broke the kiss, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Christ, do you even own a pair of underwear?” He laughed, then flinched. I slipped my right arm out from under his sweatshirt and gently grabbed his chin as I inspected his face. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes that made him look bruised. “You appear to be significantly worse for wear since we last met, sir. Do I need to have a word with the gentlemen from Legendary?” 

He began rubbing small circles on my lower back with one hand. “Honestly, I’d seriously consider having you stand in for me at today’s meeting if you didn’t have prior obligations.” He took the hand that held his chin and brought it to his lips, then sighed. “They just kept buying round after round…Luke and I could barely keep up. We got mortifyingly clobbered at pool and darts. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

I fished a bottle of water from my bag and offered it to him. “Here. Drink.” He stared at me, pouting.

“But I’ll have to let go of you in order to open it. And I don’t want to.” I shoved it back in my bag. He brought me in closer, bending to nuzzle my neck. “I hope my late night texts didn’t disturb your rest.”

“I didn’t hear a thing. Wish I had, though. I would have told you to get your ass up the stairs and into my bed.” He snickered, and I felt his teeth tug at my earlobe. I wiggled my hips against him. “Thank you for the note, by the way.”

He pulled back to look at me and smiled timidly. “Did you like it?”

“No.” His eyes widened, and I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I loved it. So much so that I held it in my hand while I slept.” He grasped the back of my neck, fingers easing into my hair as he pressed his lips to mine, both of our mouths falling open, tongues colliding. I sucked on his lower lip, sliding my leg up to wrap around him as he bucked against me. We froze at the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly. I leaned sideways to peek around Tom and found Serena staring back at me.

I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand, then wiped my hand on my tunic as I stepped away from Tom. He took it in his and turned around to face her with me. My brow furrowed as I wondered what the fuck one was supposed to say in this sort of situation. Should I apologize? Should I pretend it hadn’t happened? It appeared that Tom had no clue, either. Serena burst out laughing and patted me on the shoulder.

“Good morning, Maude. I should probably give you a lecture and tell you to get a room, but I won’t because my god, the two of you are just so adorable. Dante’s loading the rest of our equipment onto the dolly. He should be here in a sec.” She opened the doors of the conference room, engaging the stoppers so they’d remain that way, then entered and began rearranging a few pieces of furniture.

I turned to Tom, shaking my head. “Public indecency. Told you so. I’m a ticking time bomb.” He smirked.

“I’m afraid I must leave you to your work, Maude. It would appear that something’s come up and needs my immediate attention.” He pulled at his shorts, adjusting himself as he whispered in my ear. “Though it would most certainly prefer your attention.” I pinched his nipple, delighting at his gasp.

“No one likes a tease, Thomas.” Dante was quickly approaching. I sighed. “On with the show, I guess.”

Tom pulled me to his chest and kissed my forehead. “Last one. And then you’re all mine.”

I poked his chest. “You need to go right now or I’m going to disappoint two hundred people when I run off with you.” He grinned. “Good luck with your meeting. I’ll see you at 4:15. Be ready to hula.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready. And I’ll bet you dinner that you can’t get Luke to join in.”

“Well, in that case, you’d better make sure there’s lots of room on your credit card, sunshine.”

“Not necessary. Won’t ever happen.” He waved as he turned and walked down the hall. I called after him.

“You are so very, very wrong.” I watched him go, biting down on my thumb. Sex on legs. Absolute truth. Serena spoke from behind me.

“Maude, Dante needs you to stand on a few marks.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thanks.”

“If he happens to come back before we leave, would you mind terribly if I asked him for a pic with me?” A light blush colored her cheeks. I laughed, shaking my head.

“Nope. Not one single bit.”

**************************************************  
It seemed as if it was over as soon as it began, and I even managed to keep my shit together when the attendees gave me a send-off standing ovation at the end of the last lecture hour. Though my emotions were mixed about being done with something that had kept me going for so long, I couldn’t help but feel…free.

Tom had stopped in during our first break, transformed from hung over frat boy to runway model after a hot shower, a huge breakfast and a gorgeous charcoal bespoke suit. He hadn’t worn a tie, and his white dress shirt was open at the neck. It took five tries on my part to get a decent shot of him and Serena, mainly because she kept looking at him instead of the camera, but my shaking hands factored in as well. I’d need to get over that shit pronto if I was going to be on photography duty for the foreseeable future. She asked if she could post it online, and I told her it was fine as long as she didn’t include location details.

It was 4:08 when I got back to my room, leaving me just enough time to change into my hiking shorts and vintage X-Files T-shirt. I did a little happy dance at the prospect of being able to spend more time in casual clothes…I’d amassed quite a collection of graphic tees over the years that I hardly ever got to wear, and now that a good portion of my work would be behind the scenes, I could.

“Well, that’s a fucking plus I hadn’t even considered. Comfy clothes, baby. Bring it on!” I ended the dance with a fist in the air as I entered the bathroom. I put my hair up in a ponytail, not even bothering to brush it first. My black Rio Birkenstocks were nowhere to be found, and, thinking about it, I hadn’t seen them since Monday. After tearing the rest of room apart, I spotted them in the little open cubby under one of the nightstands where Tom must have tucked them when he did my laundry. I strapped them on, grabbed my wallet, keys, phone, and iPod from my bag and stuffed them in my pockets, making up a little song as I danced some more.

“I love pants with pockets and I can wear them all the time and that is fucking cool because…shit. Because I’m a mime? Because I like to rhyme? Damn, I used to be GOOD at this. Ah, fuck it. POCKETS!”

One of the things I abhorred most about dress clothing was the lack of pockets. Carrying any type of bag made me feel weighed down, plus they always either fell off my shoulder or smacked me in the ass as I walked, yet I had stuff that needed to be stored somewhere. Men’s pants had the best pockets, and I often opted for those over the women’s version.

I took a last look at my reflection in the mirror. “Off you go, Maude. New chapter and all that.” I opened the room door and meandered down the steps, hand trailing along the rail. Tom and Luke were waiting for me outside their suites.

I flung my arms out to the side. “Who’s ready to HULA?!”

Luke groaned, rolling his eyes as Tom raised his hand and shouted, “I AM, I AM!”

I put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Come on, Luke, let your hair down a little.” He snorted.

“I tried that last night and found it to be rather disadvantageous.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Tom smirked at me and mouthed ‘this is a bet you cannot win’. I threw him double birds. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his rental car dangling them in front of me.

“Shall we?” I shook my head.

“Let’s take my Jeep. Feel the breeze. Be rugged.” Luke held up his hand.

“Please, no. The jouncing around might kill me.” I huffed.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way. But if the car has an auxiliary jack you might be sorry I acquiesced.”

He was indeed sorry, as Tom and I sang the entire 11 minutes it took to get to the Kaua’i Museum. Towards the end of Pharell’s ‘Happy’ he appeared to be contemplating opening the door and leaping into traffic.

“I’m not sure what’s making me more nauseated…the hangover or the two of you caterwauling up there.” I reached back to pat his knee.

“I promise I’m not always this obnoxiously elated, Luke. I’m just on a quit-my-old-job-today-and-have-a-super-cool-new-one high. It won’t last.”

He nodded his head. “Mmm hmm. And I’m sure it has nothing to do with our chauffer.”

I glanced over at Tom, put my hand to the side of my mouth and looked back at Luke, whispering. “He is awfully pretty, isn’t he?” He rested his head in his hands as the car made an abrupt right turn into the museum parking lot.

It was a lovely place, located on Rice Street in the Albert Spencer Wilcox and William Hyde Rice buildings. Hula classes were conducted by members of the Daughters or Hawai’i in the courtyard, as the museum itself closed at five. There were a total of eleven of us, and just as Tom predicted, Luke immediately sat on the sidelines while the rest of us gathered around the instructor. Her name was Iolana and she appeared to be in her late fifties. As she explained that hula is a dance accompanied by a chant (oli) or song (mele), the dance portraying the words in a visual format I stared at Luke and tapped my foot.

Iolana asked us all to move behind her, at least three feet apart, and I flung my hand out at Luke and then pointed to the open space next to me. He shook his head. I pouted. Then I put my hands together, silently begging, mouthing ‘please?’ while batting my eyelashes. No way in hell was I losing this bet. He sighed, put his chin on his chest and hefted himself out of the chair to join us. I turned to Tom and stuck my tongue out. He shook his head and stepped closer so he could whisper in my ear.

“He hasn’t actually danced yet, Maude.” I slapped his arm. 

We were instructed to stand with feet apart, left knee bent and our hands on our hips, then step with our left foot and slide our right foot next to the left, bending that knee. The process was repeated in the opposite direction. After we mastered the steps, it was time for some hip action…raising it in time with and in the opposite direction of the step, keeping both knees bent. Iolana turned to check our progress and immediately went to Luke, putting her hands on his hips and pushing them in the correct direction. I turned to Tom and grinned. He shook his finger at me.

“He’s not using his hands.” I rolled my eyes. Iolana had moved back to the front to continue the lesson. One arm bent at the elbow in front of the body, the other extended out from it in the direction of the step, head facing that way as well, fingers together and hands moving at the wrists like a wave. Again, the process was repeated in the opposite direction when moving that way.

Iolana taught us a few more arm motions and explained what they meant, advising that they were only the chorus of a mele called Eleile, which we’d be ‘telling’ over and over for the duration of the class, then turned on the music. I glanced at Luke, then turned to Tom and started doing alternating wave motions rapidly with my hands in front of me. He tilted his head.

“That doesn’t look like a legitimate hula hand motion, Maude.” I grinned.

“It’s not. Do you want to know what it means?”

“No.”

“Sure you do. It’s my visual interpretation of ‘you lose, sucker’.” I thumbed in Luke’s direction. He was dancing, and it looked like he might even be enjoying it a little. Tom hung his head in defeat, and I tried to refrain from drooling as I watched him roll his hips. I kept missing steps and had to close my eyes in order to focus. The tempo of the music increased, and without the distraction of keeping an eye on Luke or ogling Tom I completely lost myself in the dance. It was an incredible feeling, moving faster, back and forth, the rhythm and motions of my body conveying this brief chapter of a story via a method that had been used for generations, dating back to ancient times when indigenous peoples worshiped volcano goddesses. 

I heard clapping, faint at first but louder as more people joined in. I opened my eyes, discovering that I was the only one still dancing other than Iolana. And that everyone was staring at me. I stopped. A huge grin spread across her face.

“Miss, where did you study hula, if you don’t mind my asking?”

I swallowed. “I’m Maude. And, just here. I’ve never done it before.”

Her eyes widened. “Well, Miss Maude, it’s very unusual for someone to catch on so quickly, especially a first-timer. I guess you’re just a natural.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You dance beautifully, my dear. I’m sure your boyfriend would agree.” She smirked knowingly at Tom, then began to circulate amongst the other participants, stopping to speak to Luke first.

Boyfriend. Is that what he is? I turned to face Tom, and what I saw in his eyes was overwhelming. Desire, passion, admiration, awe, joy, and something else that I didn’t think I was ready or willing to hang a name on quite yet. I waved self-consciously.

“Hi there.” I watched him take several deep breaths, and I noticed he had his phone in his hand.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, did you film that?!” He nodded. I groaned and covered my face with my hands. He pulled them away gently, and now that he was right in front of me I could see his eyes shone with tears.

“Sorry. My original intent was to video Luke so I could email it to Simon, which I did, but then you…and I had to. It was one of the most breathtaking things I’ve ever seen. Here, watch it.” I shook my head.

“Nope. Maybe later.” He reached out to touch my face, fingers feathering over my cheekbone and down to my jaw.

“Alright. Later. But I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. The rest of us, we were just moving. But you, you told a story. An ancient, timeless story.” He waved to get Iolana’s attention. She excused herself from her chat with two older ladies and came over to us.

“Hello, Iolana. I’m Tom.” She shook his proffered hand. “Do you happen to have an English translation of the chorus you taught us today?”

“Yes, I do. Right up here.” We followed her to the table that held her portable stereo and paperwork. She pulled a sheet out of a purple folder. “I’m so pleased you’re interested in learning more. An hour is such a short period of time and I have to focus intently on the dancing, so I rarely get to talk about the song itself. This is the chorus of the mele. Eleile is a dark swirling pool on Maui, also known as the water that returns the ti. It is customary to break a ti leaf stalk and throw it into the pool. As the water swirls, the leaves are unfurled, then pushed back into a long, tight bud.” She handed it to him. He read it, then passed it to me without saying a word. I read it. Then I re-read the chorus again. And again.

Dark is the water of Eleile  
The cold dwelling place of the mist  
It is made warm by love  
That stood close at my side

I felt his hand on my forearm. I refused to look away from the words on the paper. He spoke, voice fraught with emotion he struggled to contain.

“Looks like you were telling our story.” My hands were shaking, eyes still fixed on the mele chorus. He put his on top of them, steadying me. “When you danced…I swear I could see your soul. And oh, how it called to me, Maude.”

Silence surrounded us, and as I raised my gaze I noted that everyone was staring at me. Again. I inhaled, then let it out with a whoosh as my eyes found his. I still couldn’t quite manage to form words. He took a step closer to me, moving his hands to my shoulders.

“I know it’s only been two days since we met, and that you’ll very well likely think me certifiably insane for saying this, and perhaps I am, but every fiber of my being is screaming at me to do so and sometimes you just have to fight your fears and say fuck it, come on, so…Maude, I am totally, completely, utterly, madly in love with you.”

My mouth dropped open, then closed as I bit my lower lip. Right. Fight my fears. Sure. Fuck it, why not? I shrugged. “Well, Thomas, in that case we’d best pick out some matching straitjackets because I, too, have clambered aboard the crazy train. Wildly, wholly, entirely, absofuckingloutely in love. With you.”

He kissed me, briefly, sweetly. The tiny crowd oohed and ahhed, then began to disperse. As we said our goodbyes and thanks to Iolana Luke came over, phone raised, smiling. I rolled my eyes.

“Let me guess. You filmed all of that. What is with you people?” He laughed, and I shook my head. “Well, now we have even more details to discuss. And I want pizza. Can we get pizza? Let’s get pizza. LOTS of pizza. Tom’s even buying. Right, Tom? Or was all this a distraction so you could welsh out on our bet?”

He put his arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head as we exited the courtyard. “You can’t blame me for trying, can you?”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “What bet?”

I looked at Tom. “You tell him.”

He shook his head. “I’m not telling him.”

Luke ran in front of us, stopped, arms crossed. “Someone had better tell me.”

We remained silent and walked around him to the car. Luke groaned as he got in. “Already conspiring against me. Fine. Don’t tell me. But I’m going to order ten fucking pizzas, just for spite.”

He took out his phone, clicked something, and the sounds of hula music filled the vehicle.

“Thomas William Hiddleston, did you send Simon a video of me doing the hula?” Tom started to chuckle.

“Me? Why on earth would you think I’d do such a thing?”

Luke snorted. “Because you fucking did, that’s why. Hmm, I think I’m starting to see how this went down. Your bet involved whether or not I’d dance. Maude suckered me into it and won. Tom, I’m going to kick your ass when we get out of this car. Maude, I’m impressed. Mildly disappointed in your behavior, but impressed just the same. And Simon says to tell you you’re a wonderful dancer.”

I turned to see Luke’s phone, hoping to catch a glimpse of Simon’s face. I got lucky…it was his lock screen background, or so I assumed. “Is that Simon?” He nodded and passed me the phone. “Damn, Luke, he’s gorgeous.” Luke grinned.

“Even more so in person. You’ll get to meet him tomorrow. He’s flying out to stay for a bit. In the beach house we’ll all be sharing.”

I turned to Tom, tilting my head quizzically. “Um, beach house? What beach house?”

He smirked, then shrugged. “What can I say? The meetings with the Legendary people went well. Really, really well.”


	9. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke, Tom and Maude discuss plans for the immediate future. Maude evaluates her current circumstances and tries to determine how they will be affected by her past. And, of course, there’s smut. Because god forbid I don’t allow them to fuck at least once in a chapter…they’d probably stop speaking to me. Feedback would be much appreciated, and my undying thanks for reading, and for your support as I write their story. Hope you enjoy. So, so NSFW.

We chose Luke’s room as our meeting spot again, and I had taken a quick jaunt upstairs to retrieve my laptop and tablet. Tom had protested vigorously when I insisted on leaving him behind, but I knew once we were alone a fuckfest would ensue and even though I would have walked through fire to get to said fuckfest, there was work to be done. It was glaringly apparent that the level of self-discipline this position would require might be well beyond the scope of my abilities. By a veritable shit ton.

Luke had designated the task of ordering dinner to Tom to keep him occupied in my absence. We’d chosen Tony’s Pizza, a little place on Rice Street that delivered to the hotel, mainly because Luke wanted to get things over as quickly as possible with so he could go back to bed. I’d inquired on the ride back as to why he seemed to be in far worse shape than Tom, and his one word reply was ‘tequila’. For a brief moment, I actually felt a tiny twinge of guilt at coercing him into dancing.

He was out at the patio table when I got back, sitting with his head in his hands. I sat across from him, opening my laptop and powering up my tablet while he moaned pitifully. He took a deep breath and looked at me through his fingers.

“Tom’s out getting some more paracetamols and water. We can start reviewing schedules when he gets back, if that’s okay.”

I shook my head. “No way, man. Beach house first. Must. Know. About. Beach. House.” I smacked my palms on the table after every word for emphasis. He flinched.

“If you do that again I may have to terminate your employment, Maude.”

“Believe it or not, it wouldn’t be my fastest firing.”

He snorted. “Oh, I believe it.”

I got up from my chair and stood behind him. “I’m going to sever any remaining threads of professionalism between us now by doing this, but it’s necessary.” He turned to squint at me, face pinched, and I began rubbing his neck. “Keep in mind that this does NOT mean I am extending my sympathy to you. This is for the sole purpose of improving my surroundings. Your hungover sad-sack face is not something I care to look at while I’m trying to enjoy my pizza.”

He groaned as I worked my way up his cervical spine. “Maude, that feels…nice. So, so nice.” I had moved up to the back of his head and on to his temples when Tom arrived with the paracetamol. He raised a brow and smirked at me, setting them down on the table along with a bottle of spring water.

“Well, Luke, aren’t you the lucky one. I haven’t even gotten a massage from her yet.” I rolled my eyes at him as I moved my hands back down to Luke’s neck and squeezed, thumbs prodding deep into his trapezius muscles. He squealed and I let go.

“That, however, did NOT feel nice. Damn.” He rotated his head from side to side, then moved it up and down. “Wow. I think I feel…marginally better.” He gave me a small smile. “Thank you, Maude.”

Tom had wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, and I leaned into him, instantly overpowered by his scent. “You’re very welcome. Take your pills and drink that water, please. Maybe you’ll be human again by the time the pizza gets here.” There was a knock at the door. “Or maybe not.”

No one moved. I sighed and wiggled out of Tom’s embrace. “I guess I’ll get that.” He shook his head and held up his hands.

“No, please, allow me. Since I’m the one who has to pay for it and all.” He disappeared from my line of sight as he neared the room door, and I wondered if he had any cash on hand for a tip. Taking a twenty out of my wallet, I headed after him, just in case. He turned around to look at me and I slipped the bill into his hand. Tom took the pies from the delivery guy, then passed him the money.

He looked to be no more than eighteen or nineteen, and his eyes widened when he took note of the denomination. “Thank you very much, sir. Enjoy your food. Aloha!”

Tom kissed my cheek. “Maude to the rescue yet again.” He shook his head as we began walking back to the patio. “I never even thought about a tip. I’m usually on top of that sort of thing.”

I raised my eyebrows and pointed to myself. “I’d prefer it if you were on top of this sort of thing.” He stopped in his tracks, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

“Soon, love. Soon.” He ran his tongue along its outer shell and I sucked in a breath, then exhaled slowly.

“Not soon enough, you bastard.” He chuckled as we reached the patio, setting the three pizza boxes on the table. I opened the top one, my nose scrunching at the odor that emanated from it. “What the hell is this?”

Tom shrugged. “We’re in Hawaii, so we’re having Hawaiian pizza. You know, when in Rome…”

I took a closer look at the pie. “Why is there ham on it? And are those…are those fucking pineapples?”

Luke laughed. “But Maude, you’ve traveled all over the world…surely you’ve encountered Hawaiian style pizza before?”

I put a hand on my hip. “Christ, I’m already regretting that neck rub. Yes, I’ve heard of Hawaiian pizza. But I was blissfully unaware of the precise ingredient list. And I’ve never had to, like, smell it. Pizza is supposed to be comprised of tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese. With meat. Maybe vegetables. Not fruit. Never fruit. It’s…that’s…it’s just wrong.”

They were silent for a beat, then cracked up laughing. Tom put the pineapple monstrosity to the side and opened the box underneath. I peeked into it hesitantly, inhaling. “Oh, thank god. Now that’s pizza.”

Tom pointed to the bottom box as he sat down. “The last one is a Margherita.”

“Not a big fan, but they’re tolerable. At least there’s no fruit. So, this will be my pie. You can have the rest, m’kay?” I grabbed a slice and plopped down in my chair, taking a bite and talking with my mouth full. “So, beach house. Spill it.”

**********************************************************

The Legendary executives had been deeply concerned that after hearing JK and Michael had pulled out of Kong: Skull Island Tom would as well, hence their visit and wining and dining. They’d presented some casting options after their initial meeting, hoping that involving him in the process would demonstrate their commitment to both him and the project itself. He’d given them his opinion and they had decided to meet this morning to go over the new shooting schedule based on the availability of all involved. Since they had initially planned on rolling already, they’d signed a contract on a rental property and discovered it would cost them more to cancel early than to hold on to it for the minimum term required. As a gesture of good faith, and to make up for the inconvenience of re-arranging his busy schedule, they offered the property to Tom for two weeks, starting the following day, July 2nd. Tonight would be our last night at the Marriott, and we’d head out to Koloa after checking out in the morning. All they’d been told was that it was gated, private, with two master suites, four full bathrooms, an in-law suite over the garage and right on the ocean.

I set down the crust from my fourth slice of pizza and wiped my hands on my napkin. “So, we’re staying there until the 16th, correct?” Luke shook his head and pulled up his calendar.

“Tom has to be in San Diego for Comic-Con on the 12th. I’ll be going with him and coming back here the next day, but Simon will probably stay at the house. You can stay there with him or…” Tom cut him off, placing his hand on my forearm.

“You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” I nodded.

“I’d like to, if it’s okay with you both.” Luke looked pleasantly surprised.

“Perfect. It will be great to have you there.” He shot Tom a look. “I didn’t want to put any pressure on you this soon, so I was content with seeing if you’d volunteer but Tom went ahead and…Tommed.” I laughed.

“I thrive under pressure. Might as well make this my maiden voyage into the fray. I need to order another camera, though. Mine’s back in New York, and frankly, it’s a dinosaur. Figure I’ll hang back and take photos and get a feel for how it all works, hopefully they’ll be good enough for the website archive. If I push, I might be able to have at least a preliminary site done by then. Or a placeholder. Something.” I looked at Luke. “Do you have a domain secured?” He shook his head. I turned to Tom. “Do you have a domain secured?”

“Erm, no. Should I do that?”

I face palmed. “No. I’ll find something. If there’s anything left, that is. What about your management team? Will you ask them if they did it at some point? And I’ll also need a list of all your photoshoots with contact info so I can reach out to their studios. I’ll pull it all off the web and credit back if need be, but I’d rather have it from the source. Much better quality.” They were both staring at me. Luke smiled.

“Hiring you was by far one of the smartest business decisions I’ve ever made.”

I eyed a fifth slice but decided against it, not wanting it to interfere with my anticipated evening exertions. “I am in full agreement, Luke. So, what’s next after SDCC?”

“Well, I’d like you to come to London the week of the 20th to see the office and meet everyone. Prior to that you can work from wherever you’d like.”

“Hmm, well, I should go back to New York at some point to shuffle my wardrobe around and pick up some equipment. And it would be nice to be home for a few days. I always get more work done when I’m there. Maybe I’ll head there after SDCC and then on to London.” Tom cleared his throat. I met his gaze and tilted my head. “Would you like to join me in New York? If there’s nothing else you need to take care of, that is.”

He shook his head. “Nothing else to take care of, and if there were I’d figure out an alternate way of dealing with it.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “Spending time with you on your home turf sounds lovely. Perhaps you’d like to do the same with me in London?”

“My passport and I are ready to roll, Thomas.” I entwined my fingers with his. Luke was rubbing his temples.

“We have more dates I thought we’d need to go over, but it appears we don’t need to, so I’ll just email them to you both and you can take it from there. If any discrepancies arise, let me know.” He sighed. “Now let’s have the conversation I’ve been dreading, shall we?” Tom and I looked at each other, then nodded. Luke continued speaking.

“Maude, obviously I’d planned on asking you how and when you wanted to announce your joining the Prosper team, but…” He held out both hands, palms up, one pointing at Tom, the other at me, then waved them over each other. “This isn’t something I factored in. I can tell you how I’d like to handle it from a PR perspective first, then you can weigh in. Acceptable?” We nodded again.

“Good. First, I’ll draft a formal announcement advising that Maude has become part of the company, listing her bio and so forth, but minus title info for general media release. Then, after the July 4th holiday, I’ll announce via social media the details of her position, but will refer to her as Prosper’s social media director who will be heading up a special project as Tom’s social media manager. As for your relationship status…I think it’s in everyone’s best interest for you to keep that under wraps for the foreseeable future.” I could feel Tom tensing. “Now before you bite my head off, take a moment to consider what that means. Not much, really. People will be expecting you both to be in the same place regularly, so it’s fine if you’re seen, but you will need to quash the PDA in public. No one will be the wiser. That being said, I fully understand and even expect that you might want to take a different route, and I’ll respect that, as long as you’re both aware of the media shit storm you’re about to unleash on yourselves. Especially on Maude. And…this is the part I’ve really been dreading…if that’s the choice you’re leaning towards, be sure to take into account all the repercussions you’ll both be facing, personally and professionally, if things don’t work out between you in the long term. ”

I looked at Tom, saw him unclench his jaw, then open his mouth to speak, and held my hand up to stop him. 

“Luke, there are no guaranteed outcomes for any interpersonal relationship. We should all know that going in. That being said, first, here’s my professional opinion, of which I think you’re already aware…trying to keep any secrets from the media only fuels speculation and often backfires, spectacularly so. Thus, it’s not something I would advise, and that wouldn’t change even if we were discussing Tom’s relationship with someone other than me. Second is my personal opinion…I firmly believe I can handle whatever gets tossed my way. That’s just the kind of person I am. Call me fat? Fine. Call me a whore? Sure, why not? None of it matters to me. I know my worth as a person, and I stopped wasting the fucks I have to give on what other people think of me a long, long time ago. And, whatever happens between Tom and I, it won’t spill over and affect my job performance or professionalism. Over the years I’ve worked with plenty of clients who were utter assholes, and I even hated a few, but I always treated them fairly and did what needed to be done in spite of it.” Tom’s grip on my hand was growing ever tighter. I glanced at him and held his gaze. “Sorry. Not trying to be a Debbie Downer, just want to reassure Luke that I have, in fact, taken everything into account and that any risk is for me personally, not him professionally. I’m in favor of being public right from the start. But how do you feel about all this?”

He hugged me so hard I could barely breathe, then released me and turned to Luke.

“I won’t hide this. I won’t hide her, or how I feel about her. This time…this is different. I said in an interview once when asked if I was involved with someone that there wasn’t anything to say at that point, but that when there was something to say, I’d say it.” He looked at me, smiling softly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “This time, there’s something to say. And I want the whole world to hear me when I say it.”

**********************************************************  
We’d decided to spend the night in my room so Luke would have a better chance of getting some much needed rest. Sound seemed to travel easier through walls than through floors in this particular hotel, and all in all it was still difficult to pick up on what any given noise actually was, but we still erred on the side of caution. If the bedrooms in the beach house turned out to be right next to each other, I might find myself in need of a muzzle. Or worse, earplugs, so I wouldn’t have to hear Simon and Luke.

As soon as the door to Luke’s room shut behind us, Tom pushed me back against it, tongue in my mouth, one hand in my hair at the back of my head, the other down the front of my shorts and inside my underwear. He thrust two fingers inside me and rubbed my clit with his thumb, and I rode his hand until I came right there in the hallway, hands clasped behind his neck, biting back a scream as he whispered in my ear.

“Woman, I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight that you’re going to need a wheelchair in order to get around tomorrow.”

I bit down on his neck, sucked, then laved it with my tongue. “Promises, promises.”

He slipped his hand out of my shorts, rubbed the tips of the fingers that had been inside me against his lips, licked them, then slid them in and out of his mouth while making lewd slurping sounds. I grabbed his cock and squeezed.

“Thomas. Upstairs. Now. Now now now now now.”

We climbed them two at a time, and I fumbled to find my keycard, rummaging through my messenger bag and finally realizing it was in my wallet, which was in my pocket. He pushed me into the room and tried to pin me against the wall as I pulled the bag’s strap over my head and dropped it onto the floor. I wriggled free and spun him around so his back was against it instead, then knelt at his feet. He attempted to pull me up until I mouthed his cock through the fabric of his shorts. I looked up at him, his nostrils flaring, chest heaving, jaw askew. The view from this angle was so striking that I had to close my eyes for a moment and remember to breathe before I could continue. I yanked his shorts down and helped him step out of them while he whipped his shirt over his head. I grinned, taking him in hand as I flicked my tongue over the head of his cock, tiny little kitten licks. He moaned. I ran it along the slit, tasting his saltiness, then circled the tip again and again. He gasped, and I felt his entire body shudder as I took the head into my mouth and began sucking as I stroked the rest with my hand.

“Oh, Maude. That feels amazing.”

I put my hands on his hips and began working myself further down his shaft. Despite having experience with deep throating, I didn’t think there was any way I’d be able to take all of him…but I couldn’t resist an opportunity to test my limits. Just as the head nudged the back of my throat my gag reflex kicked in. I felt his hands on my head, gently pushing me backward and off him. I released him with a pop and looked up to see him shaking his head. He spoke, his breathing labored.

“You don’t have to do that, Maude.”

I ran my fingers up and down his happy trail. “I like doing that.”

He groaned, eyes rolling back in his head, then frowned at his reaction, shaking his head again. “I…shit…it’s just…I…” He took a deep breath. “No one’s ever really… attempted…that before and I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself and I’m terribly afraid that I’ll hurt you.”

I palmed his cock, which was nearly purple and copiously weeping. “I can’t say I’m surprised, honestly. This is quite a mouthful. And then some. And then some more.”

“Maude.”

“Thomas, it’s fine. I want to. There’s no way I can take it all, not yet, anyway…” He inhaled sharply. “But don’t worry about hurting me. I know what I’m doing, and I know my limits. I’m going to keep my hands on your hips the entire time. If I need you to stop I’ll push hard, like this.” I gave him a rough shove. “If my hands are just resting there, you can just let your body take the lead and do whatever you like. Okay?”

He brushed back the errant strands of hair from my forehead. His hands were shaking badly. “You’re sure?”

I answered him by wrapping my lips around his cock and moving my head forward to take in as much as of him as I had before, flattening my tongue and forcing myself to relax my muscles so I wouldn’t gag again. My hands softly gripped his hips, and I ran my thumbs up and down as an indicator that I was ready for him to move. He pulled back, then slid back in haltingly, grunting as the head hit the back of my throat. I moaned around him, the resulting vibration spurring him on to begin thrusting in earnest.

“Fuck. God. Maude.” I glanced upward, feeling an overwhelming desire to witness both his expression and his movements as he fucked my face. His eyes were closed tightly, one hand resting on his chest, the other at his side and pressing against the wall behind him, abdominal muscles clenching and releasing as he moved in and out. He began banging his hand on the wall in time with his thrusts, gasping and keening in between repeating my name over and over again. He was ablaze, and I was the one who had lit the match. I felt like a goddess.

His movements grew more erratic and he tried to pull away. I moved my hands to his ass, pushed towards me, then swallowed what I could of him. He screamed as he orgasmed, cock pulsing, his come shooting down my throat. I held on as long as I could, then grabbed his hips and shoved. He pulled free and I gasped for air as he slid down the wall, landing in a heap on the floor, legs akimbo. He held his arms out and I crawled between his legs, lowering my head to his chest as he wrapped himself around me.

I felt his hand on my chin, lifting it so he could look at me. We were both still breathing heavily, and I grinned wolfishly.

“Well? How was it?”

He laughed, head lolling back against the wall, then quickly sobered, leaning in so our faces were only inches apart. “That was the most exquisite, intense, all-consuming orgasm I’ve ever experienced, Maude.” He braced his feet on the floor and put his hands under my arms, pushing himself up the wall and dragging me with him, then spun me around and propelled me toward the bed. “Now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

I turned back around and put my hands on his shoulders. He tilted his head, eyes questioning. I smiled, gritting my teeth.

“Totally going to ruin the moment here, but…gotta pee. And if I don’t, I won’t enjoy any of that.” I jerked my thumb back toward the bed. “So, hold that thought, ‘kay?” He smacked my ass as I walked past him.

I kicked off my shorts and undies as I sat on the bowl, then pulled my T-shirt over my head and wiggled out of my bra. Walking out naked would hopefully make up for my interruption. I opened the door to find Tom standing right outside, hands resting on the door frame. He let go, then pushed me back into the bathroom until my ass hit the counter. He slapped his hand on it.

“Up. Sit.” I raised an eyebrow, but complied. The edge was rounded, thankfully, and didn’t dig into my legs. He grabbed the bathmat, placed it on the floor in front of the counter and knelt. I stared. He lifted my legs, put my feet on his shoulders and pulled me forward so my ass hung over by an inch or two. I leaned back against the mirror, but could still see him clearly. He licked his lips as he ran a finger down my slit, then spread me open.

“Mmm. Look how you glisten. So, so wet for me.” He looked up. “I’m going to lick up every. Single. Drop.”

He ran his tongue along my folds, from bottom to top, over and over, in broad stripes, finally delving in and swirling it around my clit, then repeating the process. I whined when he reached my clit again and felt him smile against me as he moved away.

“Don’t be a tease, Thomas.” He blew on me, the sensation making me shiver. “Fucker.”

He grinned. “Tell me what you want, Maude.” I gave him the finger. He shook his head. “Tell me.”

I huffed. “Fine.” I leaned forward. “I want you to devour my pussy, Thomas. Suck my clit until I scream your name. Fuck me with your tongue until I come so hard I nearly suffocate you with my thighs.” I’d just gotten the last word out when I felt him latch on to my nub, sucking, nipping, tugging, licking. I came without delay, reaching down to push him away before it became too much. He let go.

“So sorry, love, but I simply cannot stop. You’ve yet to scream my name.” He buried his face in my pussy, resuming his assault on my clit. Barely two minutes passed and I was close to the edge again, my hand in his hair, pushing him down as I ground against him. This time I did indeed scream his name, in conjunction with a string of expletives. I felt him lift his head as I squirmed to get away. He held me in place, but allowed me a few moments to recover before he dove back in. After a series of long, slow licks I felt the tip of his tongue enter me. He swirled it around, and I swore I could feel the texture of his taste buds on my walls.

“Holy fucking mother of fucking Christ, Tom.” I canted my hips forward. “More. More.” He obliged, first thrusting, then swirling. “Deeper, Tom, deeper. Fuck me with it.”

I rocked in time with him, riding his face, but it wasn’t quite enough to push me over. “Come on, Tom. Fuck me. FUCK ME.” He worked two fingers inside, thrusting in and out around his swirling tongue, and when he began rubbing my G-spot I felt my vision start to go dark, my walls clenching, my feet bracing against his shoulders as my thighs gripped his head so tightly he had to move his body up and down in time with my hips because his neck was immobilized. I hadn’t made a sound, and he gently pried my legs apart as he removed himself from between them. He stood, leaning in to kiss me sloppily, and I reveled in tasting myself on his lips. He put a hand to my face, and I peered down, noting that his cock was fully erect, red, and shuddering.

“Can you stand?” I shrugged. He helped me down off the counter, then turned me around to face the mirror, one hand fondling my breast, the other on my stomach above my mound.

“Remember what I said Tuesday morning? That I wanted to bend you over and fuck you, right here on the counter in front of the mirror, so I could watch you watching me as I hammered my cock into you over and over again until you screamed?” I nodded, then leaned forward, resting my arms on the counter as I pressed my ass back against him. He pushed my legs apart, and I put more of my weight on the slab so I could stand on my tiptoes. I watched his face in the mirror as he slid inside me, the sight making me clamp down on him.

“Oh, how I love when you do that, Maude. Please don’t stop.” I kept time with him as he pounded into me mercilessly, again and again. He watched me watching him, thrusting faster and faster, leaning forward and covering me with his body, our faces right next to each other, grunting and moaning, observing our reflections as we came as if we were viewing a film.

He stood, pulling out of me slowly, and I collapsed onto the counter. He placed a kiss in the middle of my lower back. I sighed.

“Bring me a blankie. I’m sleeping right here. Can’t move.” He put one arm around my waist and the other across my chest, helping me rise and walking me over to the toilet. I sat. “Okay, I’ll sleep here instead.” He smiled and kissed my cheek.

I finished my business, and he escorted me to the bed.

“My turn. I’ll be right back.” I laid there, staring up at the ceiling, struggling to stay awake. I heard the toilet flush, but didn’t have the energy to watch him walk across the room. I handed him my glasses and he put them in their case. I frowned. He slid in beside me.

“You okay?” I nodded.

“I’m going to have to start wearing my contacts again. I don’t like not being able to see you.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Plus, I don’t think I can work a camera with glasses, either. So…” He put a finger to my lips, grinning.

“Well, did I do it?” I blinked.

“Do what?”

“Give you the most exquisite, intense, all-consuming orgasm you’ve ever experienced.”

I snorted. “Orgasms, not orgasm. Orgasms. But I neglected to scream at the end there, so I’ll guess we’ll just have to do it all over again. If I ever regain consciousness, that is.” I rolled on my side and he turned out the light, chuckling as he snuggled in behind me, leg over top of mine. I drifted off quickly, his soft snoring the last sound I heard.

**********************************************************  
I found myself wide awake at 4:30 AM, a quivering ball of anxiety. Tom had rolled onto his back at some point, and I carefully climbed out of bed so I wouldn’t disturb him. The full moon shone through the louvered doors, and I looked back at his sleeping form. I sighed. It wasn’t right for one human being to possess so much beauty, both outside and in.

I put on a T-shirt and shorts, then went to sit out on the balcony. The moon on the ocean made the beach look like something out of a Tim Burton film, dark and light all at once, fully contrasted. The sound of the crashing waves didn’t calm me like they usually did, instead filling my mind with visions of ships breaking into pieces against rocky cliffs.

Leaning forward in my chair, I silently berated myself for my actions of the past few days. Letting Tom peer through the cracks in the walls of my fortress hadn’t been enough…instead, I’d gone all out and thrown the doors wide open, letting him ride right in on his white steed when I confessed that not only did I have feelings for him, but that I was in love with him. It was true, but I hadn’t intended to say it. Not yet. While the details were sketchy, I knew the basics of his past, but he knew virtually nothing about mine. Loving someone created an obligation to reveal all of yourself, and I’d vowed to never, ever put myself in that position after everything I’d been through. I sang softly.

“Nowhere to run to, baby. Nowhere to hiiiiiiiiddeeee.”

I’d always taken great pride in being honest, sometimes painfully so, about everyone and everything around me, yet I’d spent half of my life avoiding my own truth. Hypocrite much, Maude? I’d buried it deep, banished it, and called myself strong. In reality, I was just too much of a coward to confront the pain, the anger, and the guilt. I wasn’t powerful enough to battle them once and for all, to the death, so I could be free, one way or another.

Trying to wrap my mind around the fact that after so many years of being emotionally closed off and resistant to the very idea of love, one chance meeting had opened my heart the way a flower unfurls its petals in the early morning sunshine after a long, dark night was making me want to vomit.

I sat, thinking, until long after the sun had risen, eventually reaching the tentative conclusion that perhaps Tom had come into my life to give me a reason, and the will, to finally face my truth. And to fight. Because I finally had something that I didn’t want to lose.

As I stood and leaned over the balcony, resting my forearms on the railing, hands clasped in front of me, I realized in that moment that I trusted him completely. That I could bare not only my body to him, but my soul as well, whenever I was ready to do so, without fear of judgement. And I was reasonably sure he knew he could do the same.

“Maude?” I spun around to face him.

“Holy fuck, you scared the hell out of me.” He was shirtless, the shorts he’d worn last night hanging low on his hips, hair sticking up at all angles. I noticed the tiny love bite I’d left on his neck as he walked toward me, frowning.

“I’d hoped your beautiful face would be the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, but you weren’t there.” He put his fingers on my cheek, thumb under my jaw. I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“Sorry about that. I woke up at 4:30 or so and was wide awake, so I came out here to try and get back in the sleep zone. No dice, though. Mass quantities of tea will need to be consumed today.”

He lifted my chin and bent down to kiss me, his tongue moving over my lips unhurriedly. I pulled his bottom lip into my mouth and bit down gently. He sighed happily.

“Mmm, that’s precisely the good morning greeting I was craving.” I slipped my hand into his shorts and grabbed his ass. He laughed. “Darling, I do believe you’re currently leading in the ‘who’s more incorrigible’ race.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know. I can’t help it. I mean, really, have you seen yourself?” I grudgingly removed my hand. “What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty when I last looked.”

“Damn, really? I was out here for that long? I must have dozed off at some point. Or was abducted by aliens. We have to be out of here by eleven, don’t we?” He nodded. “Breakfast, shower, dressing, packing…”

“I’ll order our meal, you go ahead and shower. After we eat I’ll help you pack up, then we’ll head down to my room and I’ll shower and you can help me pack. Sound all right?”

I sighed. “I’d rather just go back to bed, but since that’s not an option I guess it’ll have to do.”

**********************************************************  
Luke had sent both of us a text to let us know that he was checking out at seven so he could pick Simon up at the airport and that they’d meet us at the beach house. He’d left the address, a key and the alarm codes in Tom’s room just in case Simon’s flight was delayed and we got there first.

Tom and I approached the front desk, luggage in tow, and I was delighted to see that my favorite clerk was on duty, though I wasn’t certain she’d recognize me without my glasses. He tapped my upper arm with the back of his hand, then nodded in her direction when I looked at him. I raised my eyebrows, and he grinned and walked on ahead of me.

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw him.

“Mr. Hiddleston, I understand you’re leaving us today. Is there anything we can to do convince you to extend your stay? It’s been such a pleasure having you as our guest.”

He gave her his ‘panties will be dropping all over the globe’ smile. “Thank you. I have to say, I’ve enjoyed myself immensely over the past week. Your hotel will forever hold a very special place in my heart.” Her mouth opened and closed like a guppy, hand clutching at her throat, and I decided that was my cue. I resumed my normal pace toward the desk. Tom turned to look my way, then ran over to take my bags from me.

“Let me get those for you, love.” He brought them to the desk, set them down, then slid his arm around my waist and pulled me tightly to his side as he planted a quick kiss on my lips. “Ms. Gallagher will be checking out this morning as well.”

I waved at the clerk. “Can you have someone bring us a luggage cart, please? I don’t want Tom to hurt himself carrying it all to the car.” I looked up at him, smirking. “I’d just hate to have anything put a damper on all the…activities…we have planned.”

She excused herself, made a call, and another clerk took her place. We giggled quietly during the rest of the checkout process, finally dissolving into a fit of howling laughter as we reached the Jeep. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I tried to get my shit together.

“Oh my GOD, Tom, that was fucking hilarious. Probably really bad for my karma, and I enjoyed it way too much, but hilarious nonetheless. Thank you.”

“Your penchant for mischief rivals that of certain Norse god I’m rather familiar with, Maude.” I pinched his cheek.

“You are equally mischievous, Thomas. You’re just much more…subtle.” I took the tonneau cover off the back of the Jeep, looked at our luggage, then back at the Jeep’s cargo area. “Um, how the fuck are we going to fit all of this in here?” 

It was a struggle, but we managed to squeeze it all in. I used the tonneau cover as a tie down, and Tom wedged two of our smaller pieces between his legs. I buckled my seat belt, popped the clutch and started the engine. He put his hand over mine on the gearshift and pointed the thumb of his other hand to the cargo area.

“Just a gentle reminder that you may want to keep your speed down so everything remains inside the vehicle.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Oh, sure, I’m going to drive like a little old man when I know there’s a beach house waiting for me. With a beach. And did I mention the BEACH?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him grab the ‘oh shit’ bar in front of the glove compartment with both hands as I roared out of the hotel parking lot. I shrugged.

“I would have let you drive if you offered, you know. Too late now, though.”

“Better this way. My skills with a stick are a bit rusty.”

I looked at him, grinning. “Mine aren’t.”

He chortled. “Oh, I’m aware. Now eyes on the road, if you please. I’d like to live through this so you can demonstrate those stick skills for me again. And again.”

I clenched my thighs together. “Well, fuck. I think I just lost my lead in the incorrigible race.”

“You did indeed.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“I know. Yet you love me in spite of it.”

I sighed. “I do. I really, really do.”


	10. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: THE BEACH HOUSE! I want to be there, too. Like, now. Tom tweets. Maude meets Simon. Innuendo, as always, but no smut in this one. Some nice moments between Tom and Maude. Bless you all for reading, and your feedback is greatly appreciated.

Though the distance from the Marriott to the beach house was only twenty miles, it took the better part of forty minutes to get there. Tom was thoroughly amused at the continual stream of derisive comments that spewed forth from my mouth, directed at my driving counterparts, growing increasingly profane as we neared our destination. A Volkswagen Beetle painted in a tie-dye pattern pulled right out in front of me, and I smashed my hand on the horn repeatedly.

“HELLO! Are you fucking BLIND or WHAT?! Christ. Fucking moron.” I sighed and glanced over at him. “Driving here is in no way conducive to relaxation. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the entire island was in a permanent state of intoxication.”

“Of course they are. All drunk on the brilliant sunshine, the sparkling water, the greenery, the slower, gentler pace of living…”

“You can just fuck right off, Tom.”

“Now me, I’m drunk on something much more alluring.” He rested his hand on my knee and began sliding it up my thigh, underneath the leg of my shorts. The GPS on his phone dinged. “Make the next left onto Pe’e road.”

Number 1811 was located a little more than half a mile down from the turnoff. I stopped in front of the gate, and Tom hopped out to punch in the code to open it. I drove through and navigated the slight incline to park in front of the two car garage while he closed it. I turned the Jeep off and engaged the emergency brake, then climbed out to look around. The house was situated behind the garage, and the driveway was poured textured concrete, scored so it took on the appearance of tile. I walked to the grassy area between the buildings and fondled the trunk of a palm tree while I waited for Tom. He stopped at the garage, cupping his hands around his face so he could peek inside. I met him halfway between there and the tree.

“No sign of Luke and Simon. They should have been here by now, wouldn’t you think?” He frowned, concerned.

I shrugged. “Maybe they stopped for breakfast? Or lunch? Or some roadside nookie?”

“Maybe. I hope everything’s okay.” He put a hand on my shoulder as we walked toward the entrance of the main house. “Why didn’t we stop for some roadside nookie?”

“If I’d thought of it, we would have. But I was too busy yelling at idiots.”

“Pity.”

“Totally.”

The view-through of the ocean as we approached the covered entryway stopped me dead in my tracks. It was right there. I grabbed Tom’s bicep and shook it.

“Do you see that? That’s the ocean!”

He dug in his shorts pocked for the keys, smirking at me. “Yes, Maude that’s the ocean.”

The bottom of the double doors were wooden, carved in the shape of waves, and the glass was etched in the same pattern. He opened them and deactivated the alarm. Everything was bright and airy, white walls, rich wood, with darker accent pieces here and there. The kitchen was to our left, complete with stainless steel appliances, granite counter-tops and an island/bar. To the right was the fully furnished living area, offering a comfy-looking beige sectional that was artfully arranged opposite a big screen television. Straight ahead, though, was the money shot. I let out a low whistle.

Tom placed his hand on my lower back. “I second that emotion.”

The wall in front of us wasn’t really a wall at all…it was almost entirely made of glass, with sliders to the lanai and the most magnificent water view I’d ever seen. There were four horizon lines – the grassy yard, the shrubbery, the ocean, and the sky. I threw my hands up in the air.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m never leaving this place. Even if I have to chain myself to the lanai columns when the owner shows up to evict me.” When I turned to face him he had his right arm across his stomach, left elbow resting in his right hand, and his left hand cupping his chin while he tapped his lips with his index finger.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that since we’re the first to arrive we’re automatically granted the privilege of choosing which master suite we prefer.”

“You aren’t wrong. We get dibs on the digs, baby.” I offered my hand for a high-five, and he reciprocated.

The bedroom suites were on opposite sides of the house, and I silently thanked the universe for bestowing such favor upon me. One was off the living room, nearest the pool. The view was lovely, but the main house and lanai were visible from the windows, disturbing the sight lines just enough to make me want to go check out the other master. It was off the kitchen, which had the potential to be annoying if we weren’t the first ones up in the morning, but the windows presented a nearly uninterrupted panorama that made my jaw drop, the bed placed perfectly to enjoy it fully. I plopped down on the edge of it, facing the water. Tom proceeded to check out the bathroom, then poked his head out of the pass-through, which I assumed was to allow for an unobstructed view even from in there. Good thing neither of us were shy about our bathroom habits.

“Maude. Come in here.”

I turned but remained seated, pointing to the windows. “No. I am enjoying the pretty.”

“There’s a giant jetted tub from which one can clearly view the horizon.”

As I leapt up off the bed, I tripped over my own feet and would have fallen face first onto the tile floor if I hadn’t grabbed onto the footboard. I held up a hand in Tom’s direction, keeping my head down so I wouldn’t have to see the expression on his face.

“Not a word from you, Thomas. Not. One. Word.”

“Not even if it’s to pay you a compliment on the vivacity of your breasts as they shimmed beneath that tank top when you caught yourself?”

I shook my head as I raised it, then looked in his direction. He licked his lips, bit the lower one, then pursed them slightly. I didn’t reply, instead walking quickly towards the bathroom. He disappeared and met me at the entrance, grinning widely as he tried to obstruct my path. I pushed past him, ran to the tub, climbed in, and rested my arms on the rim behind me.

“Go get our shit out of the Jeep, Tom. I’m staying right here in case Luke and Simon turn up and try to usurp my throne.”

He sat on the side of the tub, blocking my view of the ocean. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, asked him to lean back a bit and snapped a photo. I held it out for him to see, pointing first at the ocean and then at him in the shot.

“Look, see, there’s the pretty. And there’s the more pretty. So much pretty, all in one frame.”

He leaned down to kiss my hand, stole my phone and took a picture of me before I could stop him. He turned it towards me and tapped the screen.

“And here’s the most pretty of all.”

This man was going to turn me into a pile of quivering mush with his romantic bullshit. I tried to fight it, but the blush worked its way up from my chest to my face just the same.

“Stop being so sweet, Thomas. It’s too much. I’m going to start being all happy and giddy and that has the potential to turn me into a nice person, which will sully my reputation considerably.”

He kissed me, then climbed in the tub, wedging himself against the right side of my body.

“I’m not being sweet. I’m being honest.” He leaned his head in beside mine, held out the phone and took a picture of us both, gleefully showing it to me as he rubbed his stubbly cheek against mine. “Look, our first selfie.”

I pulled away to look at him, my left eyebrow raised. “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do with that, are you?”

He pushed himself up and gracefully exited the tub, typing on my phone feverishly as he walked across the room. I hefted myself out and followed him, trying to peek over his shoulder.

“Holy fucksticks, Batman, you totally ARE.”

He handed me the phone, and there it was. Our photo. His first tweet since April.

Kaua’i, HI. Having the most incredible week of my life so far. Looking forward to all that lies ahead with this amazing woman by my side. #MaudeGallagher #mylightinthemist, #soveryblessed

I was silent. Speechless. Breathless. Shit, as they say, just got real. My heart was racing as I read it over and over again, getting hung up on his ‘my light in the mist’ hashtag. I compelled myself to look away from the screen and at his face. A tentative half-smile greeted me, and his eyes…insecurity, anticipation, hope, love…all there in brilliant hues of green and blue and gold. Not knowing where to even start, I threw my arms around him tightly and buried my face in his neck instead. He stroked my hair, and neither of us spoke for several minutes until he pulled back from my embrace so he could see me.

“You are, you know.”

I cocked my head. “I’m what?”

“My light in the mist.” My brow furrowed, questioning. He shook his head sadly. “The past two years for me have been…dark, Maude. Immensely dark.” He pointed at his head. “In here, where no one else can see. Some of it you know, most of it you don’t. And I’d like to tell it all to you, and I will tell it all to you, but I don’t think I’m ready to. I can’t quite face it just yet. I hope that’s okay.”

I nodded. He gave me a squeeze.

“Thank you. I hope it isn’t anything that would affect this, us, now…though I did do some things I’m certainly not proud of.” He frowned as I rubbed his back in slow circles. “Let’s just say I had resigned myself to a particular type of existence, a half-life, really, shrouded in a thick, grey, endless mist. Because of you, and the light that emanates from you, that mist has begun to lift. And I know in time, with you by my side, it will dissipate completely. Forever.”

He was crying, and I brushed the tears from his face with my thumbs as I tried to stifle my own sobs as I spoke.

“Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here, ready to listen.” He reached up to caress my cheek. “You’ve done the same for me, you beautiful man. You’re my light in the mist. I’ve carried around my own pain for far too long, convincing myself that it was behind me and I’d gotten beyond it, that it didn’t affect me. The truth is that I was never brave enough to deal with it, so I buried it deep down and pretended that everything was fine so I could function just enough to survive. But that’s not living. In reality, all it accomplished was stopping me from being open and making me wall myself off so I’d never hurt again, which left me alone, and lonely. You, Thomas, broke down my defenses. For the first time in what seems like forever, I’m not alone anymore. And I’m so, so thankful for that. But, like you, I’m not quite ready to go toe to toe with it yet…and though I’ve never shared my story with anyone, ever, with you, I feel like I can. I guess it’s all a matter of timing. We’ll know when it’s right.”

He leaned his forehead in to touch mine. My stomach grumbled. He laughed as I rolled my eyes.

“There’s no food here, is there?” He shook his head. “Damn. But, first things first.” I logged into my twitter account and posted the pic.

Found this handsome fellow hanging about at my new job. I think I’ll keep him. Best. Fringe. Benefit. EVER. #TomHiddleston, #mylightinthemist, #kauaiismagical

He threw back his head and his ‘ehehehe’ went through all five gears in seconds. I laughed until I was snorting like Miss Piggy. We both froze when we heard Luke’s voice. He was shouting.

“We know you’re here. We saw the Jeep. I’m shouting because Simon and I aren’t moving from the living room until you come out, fully clothed, from wherever it is you’re…hiding.”

I whispered in Tom’s ear. “Phew. Shit, I thought the jig was up for sure…maybe he hasn’t noticed yet?”

“From your lips to god’s ears, Maude.”

I heard a deep, throaty laugh I didn’t recognize, followed by a muffled ‘goddammit’, then more shouting.

“Never mind. You’d best stay where you are, because I’m going to throttle the both of you when I see you.”

***************************************  
Luke was correct…Simon was indeed even more gorgeous in person. I’d exited the bedroom first, despite my insisting it was thoroughly unchivalrous of Tom to expect me to face the Wrath of Windsor before he did, and Simon came walking quickly towards me, hand extended, smiling beatifically. Dirty blonde hair, grey eyes, Roman nose, cherubic lips, thick eyebrows and the perfect amount of scruff. As he drew closer I pegged him as 5’10” or so, only three inches taller than my 5’7”.

“Hello there, hula girl. I’m Simon. Simon Ahlberg.”

“Maude Gallagher. Lovely to meet you, Simon.” I took his hand and he immediately pulled me into a bear hug. He smelled of musk and warm sunshine. I could see Luke behind him, watching as he held me, any traces of annoyance gone from his face and replaced with a soft, loving smile. Simon slid his hands down my arms and entwined his fingers with mine, stepping back to give me a once over. He was wearing a pair of light tan manpris with a white, sleeveless, button-down collared shirt and a pair of white To Boot New York loafers. I felt terribly underdressed in my men’s jean shorts and ‘sarcastic comment loading’ tank top.

He grinned, then looked at Tom. “I love her.” He turned to me again, snickering. “Sarcastic comment loading. You and I are going to be the very best of friends.”

I spotted a half dozen shopping bags resting on the floor near the entrance. I leaned in toward him, brows raised. “Did you happen to bring food?”

He nodded. “Did I ever. And I’m…” Luke interrupted him, beaming with pride.

“Simon was a sous chef at the Dorchester prior to becoming my PA.”

I began to swing our arms back and forth, reveling in the idea of having an actual chef under the same roof. For nine whole days. “Simon, you are so right…we are unquestionably going to be the very best of friends.”

***************************************  
After helping Tom carry in our luggage, having ignored his protests at the idea of me doing so, Simon and I unpacked the groceries they’d picked up at the Living Foods Market on their way back from the airport. It was close by, only two miles or so, and stocked everything we’d likely need. He’d decided to use the barbecue to prepare dinner, choosing a traditional American meal of hamburgers and hot dogs even though we were two days from the July fourth holiday. We figured we’d be out most of the day celebrating, but hadn’t decided on a venue as yet. Remembering I hadn’t partaken in wine or champagne when we’d dined together previously, Luke had been thoughtful enough to pick up a case of Coke for me, as well as a box of Earl Grey tea.

Once Tom and I had put our clothes and toiletries away, I dragged out my tablet and laptop and plopped down at the desk in our bedroom, sending him off to play with his friends while I got some work done. Luke had given me, in addition to his company credit card, carte blanche to order whatever supplies I’d need for SDCC. I quickly discovered that shipping things to Hawaii was really fucking expensive, so I tried to consolidate as much as possible. It didn’t seem to help much, though, so I gave up and focused on getting the lowest prices instead.

First on my list was a new digital SLR camera. My old one was Nikon and I’d loved using it, so I opted for the D5300 model. Based on what I’d read, the lenses I already had would most likely be compatible with it, which was a nice bonus. Even if they were in New York. I ordered a case for it, and two extra battery packs.

Second was a video camera. While I had amassed a significant amount of experience as a photographer over the years, the only video I’d shot since college had been taken with my phone or iPod. I knew I wanted something lightweight, with a microphone and a serious zoom but other than that I was relatively clueless. Amazon had a Canon Vixia 1080p package on sale that included telephoto and wide lenses, a flash, mic, tripod, remote, hard and soft cases, plus an extra 64 GB SD card. The reviews were good, though I knew enough to take them with a grain of salt. Because sometimes people are lying liars who lie. But, it was worth a shot since it had everything I’d need and if it sucked, all I had to do was send it back.

Next came emailing my optometrist’s office in New York to let them know I was placing an online order for contact lenses that they’d need to approve. It had been well over a year since my last visit, but I’d been a patient since I relocated to the city so I hoped they’d let it slide. Glasses had become a part of my everyday life again at some point in 2011, after a bad reaction to a new type of lens the doctor had recommended when the ones I’d worn since 1994 were discontinued. Last year, another manufacturer began offering some that were comprised of the same material that my eyes tolerated well, so I ordered a few pairs to have in case I needed them. They worked, but were not even close to being as durable. If I slept in them, which I preferred to do, I barely got a week out of a set. Glasses had just seemed…simpler. Now any inconvenience contacts could cause seemed inconsequential, as long as I could have a clear view of Tom at all times, as well as the promise of enjoying our sexual exploits without having to push my glasses back up on my nose or worry about them flying off.

After giving myself a brief lecture on how fantasizing about Tom’s cock and the way it felt inside me wasn’t exactly conducive to effective time management, I tackled the last task on my list - new clothes to wear for SDCC. After weeding through what seemed like twenty sites that didn’t have what they’d advertised I stumbled upon the perfect T-shirt. It was black, with a silhouette of Tom as Loki on the front and ‘Keep Calm and Kneel to Loki’ on the back in gold and green. That, plus the light blue, medium blue and black denim leggings, tunic shirts and long sleeve tees I ordered would be better suited for blending into the background than the clothes I had with me, and I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking up my dress while I was at an odd angle trying to get a shot I wanted.

I glanced over my shoulder at the wardrobe, under which my little shoe collection was sheltered. Three pairs, all sandals. None of which would look right with leggings. But I knew what would look good with them, and I hadn’t dared to wear them in years. Doc Martens.

I tried so hard to not type in the url. “No, Maude. Behave yourself.”

My fingers seemed to move of their own volition. I clicked on the ‘women’s’ section and all was lost.

“Fuck it. I need something sturdy so I don’t fall on my face, right? Of course I do.”

I started with six pairs in my cart, then narrowed it down to three. All of which I bought using my personal credit card, because they weren’t technically something I needed in order to fulfill my duties at SDCC, so putting them on Prosper’s tab seemed rather inappropriate. Two were the traditional 9-hole style, one in metallic grey, the other a muted floral print on a beige background. The third pair was my favorite, the Diva Darcie in black patent leather with a 3 inch stacked heel. So much for sturdy…but they were sexy as hell, and I couldn’t wait to strut around in them. Hopefully without causing any serious injuries to my person.

The scent of barbecuing meat in the air made me want to make a break for the lanai, but there was one last thing I wanted to check on first. Twitter. I logged in to my account, took a deep breath and delved into the comments. It wasn’t quite the shitstorm Luke had predicted, and some were even positive. Then I checked Tom’s account…and BOOM, shitstorm. People demanding to know who I was, if we were dating, if we were married, critiquing my looks, the whole nine yards. No one had called me a whore yet, so there was that. My favorite comments so far were ‘WHY???? It looks like she’s not even wearing any MAKEUP. YUCK!’ and ‘LOOK AT HER NECK. THAT IS TOTALLY A HICKEY. IS IT FROM TOM?!’ I kept reading until I felt hands on my shoulders, followed by a kiss behind my ear that made me shiver.

He looked at the screen and realized what I was up to, eyeing me with concern. “How awful is it?’

I shrugged. “It’s exactly what I expected it to be.”

He put his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Are you all right? Maybe I shouldn’t have…”

I cut him off. “Your job is to post things and pretend that comments don’t exist. My job is to read them and let you know if any need your attention. And so far, none do. Though I feel compelled to tell you that someone seems to have noticed my love bite.”

“Holy Christ, how did someone spot that on you?”

I chuckled. “Never underestimate the sleuthing skills of your fan base, Tom. Sherlock has nothing on them.”

He lifted my chin with two fingers to meet my gaze. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I smiled. “Golden. You?”

“As long as you are, yes.”

“Good. Food soon?” He nodded as I rose from the chair and walked toward the bathroom.

“Simon needs to know how you’d like your bacon cheeseburger done.”

“Cheeseburgers. Plural. Well, please. Charred if possible. Same for the hot dogs. Thanks. I’ll be out in a few.”

***************************************  
Dinner was marvelous, and I inquired as to whether Simon prepared lunch every day at the Prosper office, because if he did, I was SO done with traveling. We’d just finished eating and were helping clean up when he pulled out his phone, gasped, then kept clicking and scrolling, clicking and scrolling.

“Luke, you need to see this.” He handed him the device, and I looked at Tom and mouthed ‘Okay, now he’s going to throttle us’. Tom began to back up slowly, attempting to escape undetected. I punched him in the arm. Luke cleared his throat.

“Maude.”

I pretended not to hear him for a beat.

“Maude.”

I swallowed, then turned to him, one hand on my chest. “Oh. I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

He gestured to Simon’s phone. “Do you have any idea what I’m looking at here?”

“Maybe?”

He smiled. “Actually, you don’t. Want me to tell you?”

I held up my hands at chest level, palms up, fingers extended. “Um, sure?”

Simon swatted him lightly on the back of his head. “Stop torturing her, you big meanie!”

Luke pouted. “What, am I not allowed to have any fun?” Simon ruffled his hair, which made him grin like a fool.

“Maude, since the two of you posted your photo prior to my getting the press release out, I decided to bypass that option and go directly to social media. Right before we ate I posted across all my accounts, announcing your joining Prosper as well as the details of your position. What I have here…” He pointed at the screen. “Are sixteen emails from artists who are interested in migrating to Prosper. All of them mention you as their reason for wishing to do so.”

I put my hands on my hips, head tilted and mouth agape. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Luke shook his head. “No. I am not fucking kidding you.”

I snorted. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m assuming I can expect a significant salary increase, effective immediately, yes?”

Simon threw back his head, roaring with laughter. Luke pointed back and forth between Tom and I. “How about I pretend you two didn’t royally muck up my plans and nearly break the internet today instead?”

I crossed my arms. “Deal. But it won’t make me feel any less overworked and underpaid.” I stared longingly at the pool. “Sorry, boys. Looks like you’re going to have to finish cleaning up without me. Maude has decided to reward herself for crafting such an esteemed reputation with a twilight swim. Feel free to join in when you’re done.”

I was en route to the house to change into my suit when Tom ran up behind me, dragged me kicking and screaming to the edge of the pool, then dumped me in unceremoniously, clothes and all. He took off his shirt and dove in, swimming to my side and caging me against the tiled wall with his arms, whispering in my ear.

“When you’re done with your little swim, I’m going to march you into the bedroom and illustrate for you in abundant detail what the word ‘reward’ truly means. I think I’ll start by stripping off those wet clothes, piece, by piece, by piece.” 

I ducked under his arms and the water, swam across the pool and walked up the steps at the shallow end, waving at Luke and Simon as I began walking toward the house. “Wow, great swim. Water’s mighty fine.” I faked a yawn and stretched. “Made me really tired, though. Time for bed. See you in the morning.”

Simon called to me from one of the lounge chairs. “Are we still on for sunrise yoga?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Tom caught up to me and slapped my ass.

Simon clucked his tongue. “I’m going to be super pissed if she can’t walk in the morning, Thomas.”

Tom snickered. “She’s not the one you should be worrying about, Simon. Believe me.”

He turned out to be 100% correct.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Maude and Simon bond, Tom and Maude visit Talk Story again, we find out a smidge more about her past. Oh, and there’s smut. You’re welcome. :P NSFW, feedback would ROCK. Thanks to all of you for reading, liking, commenting, and the like.

More than a week had elapsed since my last yoga session, and I was pleasantly surprised at my lack of stiffness. My iPod sat silent in the grass next to my mat…the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks proved to be the only music I required. Especially at six in the morning. The sun had just begun to rise behind us, its warmth exacerbating the flush my workout normally provided.

Simon’s skill level was far, far above mine, and some of the poses he worked through made me stop dead in my tracks as I admired the way his body seemed to defy the very laws of physics. He volunteered to work with me whenever we had the time, and I gratefully accepted, though I fully understood that a grace such as his was something that couldn’t be taught.

We chatted while cooling down, learning that our birthdays were only a day apart, his on October 30th, mine on October 31st. He found my being a Halloween baby hilarious, and I was tickled that we shared the same astrological sign. Fellow Scorpios - no wonder he’d liked my tank top. I tried to get him to reveal his birth year, but he adamantly refused until I offered mine up first. The look of delight on his face as he screeched out ‘me too!’ was adorable, and when he high-fived me and christened me his sister from another mister I embraced him and kissed his cheek, grinning at the lovely blush it caused.

I took a seat at the patio table and opened my laptop with the intention of starting work on Tom’s website design. Simon sat next to me, both of us facing the ocean, and he began typing away on his phone. He harrumphed and gave me some wicked side eye.

My brow furrowed. “For fuck’s sake, what NOW?”

He showed me his screen, scrolling through his inbox. “Seven more since last night. You’ve made an awful lot of extra work for me, woman.” I rolled my eyes. He turned on his chair to face me. “I’m curious, though…I thought you just lectured to and consulted with PR firms, which would mean their actual clients wouldn’t know much about you at all. So, it’s kinda surprising that an artist would be willing to jump ship and leave their current rep in the dust to wind up where you are, wouldn’t you say?”

I sighed and finished editing my open layer in Photoshop before replying. “I started out working directly with clients. My first was Anne Rice. She’s is a family friend and was willing to give me a cha…”

He put a hand on my shoulder and shoved. “GET. OUT. I’m assuming this means you’re from or lived in New Orleans at some point? But it mustn’t have been for long, because you have zero accent.”

“Your assumption is correct. Born there, raised there, relocated to New York City in 1998.”

He nodded emphatically. “So you dumped the accent. Understandable.”

It was my turn for side eye. “I didn’t dump it. It just…faded.”

He snorted. “Whatever you say, Maude.”

I pinched his arm, reveling in the resulting squeal he emitted. “Faded. I’m like a chameleon with accents. Soon I’ll be picking up your dialect and sounding like a pretentious asshat, too. In which case, you have my permission to kill me.”

“You can call me anything you like as long as you solemnly swear to take me to Mardi Gras next year.”

I rolled my eyes and held up my hand, palm towards him. “Simon. Please. I don’t think you’re ready for that sort of thing. But, if you start training now, we might be able to pull it off.”

He tilted his head like an oversized puppy. “Training for what? Drinking heavily? I’ve been training for that for years.”

“No. Throwing beads into the crowd. And doing the princess wave.” I demonstrated both. “Because if we go, you must ride on a parade float. It can be arranged. I know people.” I frowned. “At least, I used to know people. Anyway, what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted was that she was my first client, and it gave me a lot of clout. For which I am eternally grateful. I moved on after three years or so with her and began working directly with clients, most of whom were too small to have a decent PR firm behind them. I did everything, created websites, set up Facebook accounts, provided instructions on how to post, when to post, what to post, yada yada. Lots of hand holding and cajoling. Word spread, and bigger names took notice, which led to PR firms hiring me to work one-on-one with their clients for a specified duration. Most of them already had websites in place, so my focus shifted entirely to social media. In early 2010, I was invited to speak for two hours at a PR conference in San Diego…they wanted me to lecture on enhancing client reputation through social media. It was winter in New York, and they were willing to pay for my travel expenses so I thought, California? Fuck it, why not?”

Simon’s legs were crossed, his upper body leaning in towards me as he listened attentively. I had paused, and he motioned for me to continue.

“So, I spoke for two hours and they handed me a check for three thousand dollars. That was more than I normally made in an entire week and it blew my tiny little mind. It seemed to be vastly less stressful than dealing with super huge egos and non-tech savvy artists and damn, the money. I adjusted my entire business model, and within a month I was turning down engagements because my calendar was full. PR firms were still asking me for assistance, so I set up a consulting procedure wherein I’d outline a plan for them to implement, collected my fee and was on my way. It was all so…easy.”

He laughed loudly. “And you decided to work for Prosper why?”

“Because my ‘easy’ job and the cash it generated had taken over my entire life. I was the job and the job was me. Much to my surprise, lecturing and consulting long term turned out to be a soul sucking bore…and it transformed me into a miserable drudge. I am, at heart, a creative individual and I missed doing graphic and website design, photography, and learning new things. Terribly. Working for Prosper allows me to do all that again, and then some. That’s why.”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin with one hand. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the exquisite creature sleeping soundly in your bed right now.”

“No, it doesn’t. He was actually the reason why I seriously considered declining Luke’s offer.” Simon looked puzzled, but I didn’t elaborate. “So. Why did you leave such a prestigious position at the Dorchester to become a PA? Just for Luke? Or is there more to the story?”

He grinned. “Damn, turned it right around on me, didn’t you? Touché, my friend. I went to university for business management and administrative assistance, and worked in the field until 2005. Cooking had always been my passion, and I had some sort of spiritual awakening wherein I decided I absolutely needed to become a professional chef or else I would shrivel up and die. So I did. I moved from place to place, learning, working, partying my ass off, and finally landed the sous chef spot at the Dorchester in 2009. It was dandy at first, but as the years passed I felt like I’d grown stagnant, doing the same thing night after night, having little input on menu changes and so on. Like you, I was bored. I was averaging 70 hours a week in that kitchen, cut off from the world, and it hit me that all I had gotten out of it was a nicely padded bank account…and that there was no one to share it with. I’d always loved being around lots of people, and there I was seeing nothing but the same damn faces day in and day out. In 2013 I happened across Luke’s ad, reworked my resume, and the rest is history. Unlike you, though, I don’t think I would have taken the job if it wasn’t for him, because the salary was abysmal. As soon as I saw him, I knew. He was it. The one. Love at first sight. I thank my lucky stars every single day that he felt the same way.”

After wiping the tears from his eyes, he took hold of my hand. “Maude, I don’t know if he’s mentioned it or not, but Tom’s had a rough time of it lately, and I’m so, so happy that you’ve found each other.”

“Me too, Simon.” I smiled, letting go of his hand. “Now, please, for the love of all things holy, shut your cake hole so I can get some work done, okay?”

“God, you are such a bitch.”

“I am. And you’re still talking. Cease.”

We worked quietly, side by side, until Luke poked his head out the doors to inquire as to when Simon planned on getting his butt in the kitchen and making some breakfast. As he got up from his chair, he peered over my shoulder at my laptop screen. I had a basic layout set and was in the process of choosing a color combination that would contrast perfectly.

“Wow, that’s a right brilliant color palette you have there, Maude. Is that for Tom’s site?” 

I nodded. “Does it look…familiar?”

He stared. “Yes…maybe…should it?”

I opened the tab that contained the HD photo of Tom’s eye that I’d drawn all my color options from. “Tada.”

Simon poked my shoulder and called for Luke to come see. He padded out onto the lanai, looked over my shoulder, nodded, then put his hands on his hips.

“So, when are you going to use your magic to revamp the Prosper site?”

I closed my laptop and put my head in my hands, then pushed my chair back and went to wait in the kitchen, muttering to myself about peace and solitude and how I couldn’t find any even though I was in paradise.

Tom bounded our of our bedroom just as Simon was plating our pancakes and bacon, freshly showered, wearing a pair of faded, loose fitting jeans and a tight, light blue V-neck tee. I leaned back on my bar stool and around the counter to look at his feet. Scuffed, well-worn boots. When my eyes finally made their way up to his face I was greeted with a dazzling, toothy smile. I groaned.

Simon pinched his cheeks. “Lovely of you to join us, Thomas.”

Tom lowered himself elegantly onto the stool to my right, resting his hand on my spandex-clad thigh as he leaned in to kiss me.

“Good morning, Maude. How was yoga?”

“Spectacular, actually. Simon and I had a lovely chat and I even managed to get some work done in spite of it.” He laughed and began slowly sliding his hand up my leg, edging ever closer to the apex of my thighs. Simon set our plates in front of us, raising a brow as he spied what Tom was up to.

“Um, excuse me. This is a fine dining establishment, people. No foreplay is permitted.” I glanced up from my plate and saw Luke directly behind him, hand cupping Simon’s ass.

“Whatever, asshole.” I pointed at my short stack. “Do you have syrup for these?”

He pulled a pot off the stove and spooned some of its contents onto them. “Made with fresh pineapples. Especially for you.”

All eyes were on me as they waited for a reaction. I broke off a hunk of pancake with my fork and shoved it in my mouth. “Mmm, yummy. Thank you.” Luke looked at Tom, who shrugged. I took another bite of breakfast. “Yeah, nice try, losers. I happen to like pineapples. Just not on pizza.”

Tom put his arm around my waist, pulled me to him and kissed the top of my head. “I had nothing to do with this. I swear it.”

I said nothing, ripping off a piece of bacon with my teeth instead. He tapped his fork on his plate.

“So, Maude, I was thinking…maybe we could take a ride out to Talk Story today? I called to see if Alani would be in, and she is.” I spun the stool around in his direction, dumbfounded. He smiled. “I did say I’d go back to meet her, did I not?”

“Yes. Yes you did.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “What an amazingly generous thing to do. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. You’re going to be the one in charge of crowd control.” He stole a strip of bacon from my plate and swallowed it down before I could even muster a protest.

“I’d rather corral a group of a hundred people than have to sit next to you while I’m trying to eat a fucking meal, bacon stealer. And everything else stealer.”

He snickered, and I wolfed down the rest of my food, rinsed my dishes, put them in the dishwasher and headed for the bedroom, finally noticing that Luke and Simon had disappeared. I wrote a giant ‘thanks for breakfast’ on the chalkboard in the kitchen and drew a smiley face to go with it, figuring we wouldn’t be seeing them again before we left.

***************************************  
After my much needed shower, I wound up standing in my underwear, staring into yet another wardrobe wondering what the hell to wear. Tom looked too damn good for me to get away with shorts and a T-shirt, and my black tank dress just didn’t scream ‘please behave and listen to the nice lady’. Tom was waiting patiently for me, sitting at the desk answering emails and returning calls. I looked at his boots, then back and my limited selection of dresses. The brown chiffon galaxy print sleeveless wasn’t an exact match, but pretty damn close. I pulled it off its hanger and laid it on the bed so I could unzip the back without it winding up on the floor, chastising myself for giving in to my everything-must-coordinate OCD once again. I slipped it over my head, put my arms through the proper holes and managed to zip it up on my own, then went into the bathroom to figure out a hair strategy.

I’d just wrestled it into a braid when I overheard Tom talking in the bedroom.

“How’s Los Angeles? Elsa? Kids? Good to hear. Oh, she’s unbelievable, Chris. Here, I’ll take you in and you can meet her.” He came around the corner carrying his open laptop.

“Chris Hemsworth, Maude Gallagher.” He turned the screen toward me, and there he was, Thor, God of Thunder. In my bathroom. He held up a hand in greeting.

“Hello, Maude. Nice to meet you. See you? Skype you?” He face palmed. “I have no idea what the correct terminology is.” I heard a woman yell in the background that meet was fine and for him to bring the tablet over to her so she could see me. He got up and walked into another room, and a beautiful blonde woman came into view alongside Chris. She waved madly.

“Look at you, you’re gorgeous. A natural beauty. And that dress…I am in love with it. You must tell me where you found it.” Her accent was a delight. She grinned. “I’m Elsa, by the way. Tom has told us so much about you I feel like I know you already.”

I waved at them. “Hi there. Lovely to meet you both. I’d like to say Tom has told me so much about you, but that would be a big fat lie, so suffice to say I’m sure he will tell me so much about you when we aren’t quite so…so…shit, what’s the word I’m looking for here?”

Tom moved to stand next to me, shifting the laptop so we were both visible, smirking. “Preoccupied. The word you’re looking for is preoccupied.”

They laughed, and Chris grabbed at Elsa. “Remember when we were always preoccupied?”

She slapped his hand. “Oh yes. I do. And that’s why now we’re preoccupied with three little ones, my darling Christopher.” I heard children crying in the background. Elsa said a quick goodbye and ran off, and Chris followed suit so he could assist.

Tom put the laptop on the counter and pulled me to him, hands on my ass as he pressed me up against his crotch and rammed his tongue in my mouth, then backed away quickly, leaving me panting. “Well, I guess we should get going.”

I shot him a scathing look. “We should. But I have to pee first.” He walked out into the bedroom. As I sat on the toilet, I weighed my options for getting even. I mentally high fived myself as I pulled my underwear off over my feet and left them on the bathroom floor.

***************************************  
We parked a block down from Talk Story, and I scouted ahead and left Tom in the Jeep. My gladiator sandals clicked on the sidewalk as I half-jogged to my destination, anxious to see if Alani was at the desk. She was, and I texted him to come on down. He ran to meet me, and I stopped him from holding the door for me and letting me go in first.

“Nope, you should be the first thing she sees.” I had my phone all ready to go in order to capture the moment, planning on sending her a copy as a keepsake. He walked through, and she looked up as the bell dinged to announce that someone had entered the store and the look on her face was one I knew I’d remember forever. He approached her, hand extended, and I was right behind him.

“Hello, Alani. I’m Tom.” She remained motionless. He turned to me. “This is Maude. We were here on Monday, and she told me that you’re a fan of my work and would perhaps enjoy meeting me.” She nodded, gingerly lifting her arm up but unable to make herself grab his hand. He took the initiative, holding it to his lips and kissing it demurely. She squealed, so high pitched I thought my ears might bleed. Four other girls came running out of the stacks, took one look at him, and began jumping up and down, screaming, phones in hand. I stopped filming so I could set the boundaries before any issues arose, stepping between them and Tom.

“Hi, ladies. I’m Maude, Tom’s social media manager. Let’s go over some ground rules, okay?” They lowered their phones and nodded. “Tom wants to be able to take pictures, sign for and chat with all of you, but in order for him to be able to do so you need to make sure you don’t post anything to social media until after we leave the premises. No texting or calling, either. If a crowd turns up, we’ll have to cut things short, and where’s the fun in that?” 

A husky, bearded, bespectacled man came out from the stacks, wearing a white and green palm leaf print Hawaiian shirt and khaki hiking shorts. “Girls, what the heck is going on up here? Why all the screaming? You know people prefer quiet when they…” He stopped short when he saw Tom, his mouth dropping open, then quickly closing as he grew closer, hand proffered. I figured he was the owner, so I let him pass.

“Aloha, Mr. Hiddleston. I’m Roger Marshal, and Talk Story is my baby. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your stopping by again…the girls were so bummed when they learned they’d missed you on Monday.”

Tom shook his hand vigorously. “Thank you for having me. Your establishment is outstanding…I’m a bit of a bibliophile, and if I had my druthers I’d be perusing the shelves here for days on end. My apologies for dashing off so quickly when I was in last, but I had a prior obligation and thought it better to come back when I had more time to spend.” He turned to me. “This is Maude Gallagher, my social media manager.”

I offered my hand and he clasped it gently with one of his, then placed the other on top. “Maude, nice to meet you. Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you both?”

“Actually, would you happen to have a room available that’s a bit more private?”

He nodded, then turned his attention to the desk. “Sure thing. Alani, why don’t you show our guests to the staff lunch room?” Her eyes lit up, and the faces of the rest of the staff fell. “Girls, you go too. I’ll cover the desk.” They thanked him in unison between excited giggles.

I tried to hang back behind Tom, but he slowed and fell into step with me and slipped his arm around me, hand on my lower back, whispering in my ear. “The way you jumped in and took charge did…things…to me, Maude.” His let his hand glide lower and lower, halting when he reached the spot where the waistband of my underwear should be. He felt around with his fingers, over my hip, diving quickly down into the crease of my left buttock then back up to my waist, gripping me just a smidge too hard.

I met his gaze, noting his narrowed eyes and the way his tongue darted out over and over to lick his lips. I smirked and whispered back. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that I’m not wearing any panties. They sorta fell off back at the house and are lying on the bathroom floor, all alone and unloved.” The hand on my waist began to shake as we reached the staff room and he began breathing deeply as he attempted to keep his shit together. And round two of Friday’s Titillation Tease goes to…me.

Tom spent nearly two hours taking selfies, videos, signing anything the girls could get their hands on, and answering their seemingly unlimited supply of questions. The giant cup of tea I’d had on the ride over had finally hit my bladder, and I excused myself and went off in search of the bathrooms. There was only a one, unisex, located all the way on the other side of the store, tucked into an alcove deep in the stacks. Nice and roomy, too. I envisioned Tom fucking me up against the wall, then scolded myself for my blatant lack of restraint as I texted him precisely what I’d been thinking while I walked back to the staff room.

Roger had come back to check on them, which Tom took as an indicator that it was time to wrap things up. He was hugging each of the girls goodbye in turn as they left the room, saving Alaini for last. She rested her head on his chest, facing me, and mouthed ‘he smells like a FOREST’ while hugging him tightly. Up until that moment, I hadn’t been sure whether she recognized me or not. She stepped back and looked at both of us.

“This has been, like, the best day of my life. I can never thank you enough.” Her eyes shone with tears. “Would it be okay if I took a picture of you guys together?”

I smiled. “Of course. But I think it would be better if you were in it, too.” We posed, and Tom held out her phone to get the shot. I was entering my Prosper email address into her phone so she could send me a copy and she was putting hers in mine so I could send her the video from earlier when she cleared her throat.

She looked up shyly. “Um, I don’t mean to be rude or get in your business or anything, but I was just, you know, wondering…” She swallowed. “Are you guys, like, a couple?”

Tom grinned. “Is it that obvious?”

Her brow furrowed. “Well, you know, I saw what you posted on Twitter yesterday and I was like, hmm, and I know you guys work together and now seeing you in person…yeah. It’s pretty obvious, I guess.”

Tom took my hand. “Yes, Alani. Maude isn’t just my social media manager…she’s my girlfriend as well. And can I let you in on a little secret?” She nodded, awestruck. “When you saw us here on Monday, that was the very first time we met. So you played a rather important role in what turned out to be the best day of my life so far.”

I kissed his cheek. “Mine too, Alani.”

Alani flopped onto the nearest chair, clutching her hands to her chest. “That. Is. So. Romantic.” She leapt back up and hugged me. “We all want him for ourselves, but if he has to be with someone else, I’m really glad it’s you.” 

I patted her on the back. “Thank you. Hearing you say that means so much…honestly, I don’t have the words to express properly how it made me feel.” We let go of each other, and she made her way back to the desk.

I turned to Tom. “I need to hit the bathroom again before we head out.” He nodded and followed my lead. He didn’t mention my text, and I assumed he hadn’t read it yet. We didn’t see another soul on the way there, and the stacks outside the alcove were deserted as well. I recalled my vision of Tom fucking me against the bathroom wall and decided this was going to be my shining moment of public indecency. I opened the door, stepped in, then turned around to face him, left eyebrow raised.

“Want to join me?” I licked my lips. He barged past me into the bathroom, fingers already working to unbuckle his belt.

“I thought you’d never ask.” I locked the door, then did a 180. He held his fully engorged cock in his right hand, stroking it, catching any drips with his left. “I do believe I need to put this somewhere immediately so I don’t make a terrible mess on the floor.”

I bit my bottom lip as I tilted my head to the side. “I think I’ve got just the place for it.”

He ceased his stroking in order to back me up against the wall, growling in my ear. “Oh yes. You most certainly do.” He bent his knees as he lifted the front of my dress up to my waist, and I wrapped my leg around his, grinding my dripping pussy against him while I rubbed my clit. He groaned, and I slipped my glistening finger into his mouth. He sucked on it, and I felt the head of his cock at my entrance and his hands cupping my ass, his full weight on me, pressing me firmly against the cool tile.

He was panting. “Put your other leg around me and your arms around my neck.” I did the latter, but scoffed at the former.

“Um, there is no way in hell you’re going to be able to hold me up.”

He leaned forward to stare into my eyes, and his expression made me whimper. “Leg. Up. Now. Please.” As I complied he sheathed himself fully. I tried to bite back a ridiculously loud moan but was only partially successful. His mouth met mine, tongues dancing around each other. He pulled back.

“Maude, my apologies, but once I start moving I fear I’m going to last all of thirty seconds. If I’m fortunate.”

I clamped down on him. He began thrusting wildly, and I focused all my energy on not coming before he did. I was doing well until he started whispering in my ear using his Loki voice.

“Give in, mortal. Come for me. I know you’ve dreamed of this, me fucking into you for all I’m worth, you pinned against the wall, unable to sway those mesmerizing hips and have your way with me as you ride my cock to find your own selfish pleasure.”

He pounded into me, almost savagely, and as he felt my walls begin to flutter he put his hand over my mouth.

“Not. A. Sound.” I came, my scream trapped beneath his hand, the wet sounds of him moving in and out of me echoing eerily off the bathroom walls. “That’s it. Look at you, coming and coming all over my cock. So, so beautiful.”

He let his hand drop, and I could feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as I stared at him, his face red, jaw clenched, the veins on his neck standing out with his exertion. His head tipped back, fingers digging into the underside of my thighs, and his entire body shuddered as he orgasmed, come spurting hot inside me. I let my legs slide down one at a time, planting my feet as firmly as I possibly could despite the fact that they felt like they were made of Jell-O. 

He rested his head on my shoulder, and I rubbed his back. “I guess this means you got my text after all.” I felt him nod. “Well, if this is what not wearing underwear gets me, I’m never putting on another fucking pair ever again.”

We both laughed, quickly cleaned ourselves up, and I peeked out the door to make sure the coast was clear. Still not a soul around, and we said a final goodbye to Alani on our way out and proceeded to walk back to the Jeep. We sat for a while, neither of us feeling quite capable of driving.

He leaned over to kiss me, hand on the back of my neck, grinning as he pulled away. “I’m famished. Want to grab something to eat before we head back?”

“You already know the answer to that.” I noticed the street getting a bit congested, a small pack of women heading in our direction and what appeared to be a local news crew up the road a bit…I pulled out my phone and checked Alani’s Twitter feed. She’d posted the photo of all of us.

Here’s me just a little while ago with Tom Hiddleston and his girlfriend, Maude. He smells like a pine forest, and she’s super nice. #bestdayever, #thankyoutomandmaude

I showed it to him. “I’m thinking maybe we should stop somewhere a little further down the road. You?”

He started the Jeep, put it in first and stalled it as he tried to pull away from the curb, and then again on his second try. He smiled at me sheepishly. “Perhaps you’d better drive.”

“Gee, ya think?” We got out and switched places. I shook my head. “What a newb.”

He crossed his arms. “I am not a newb. I’m just out of practice is all.”

I patted his thigh as we got to the highway. “Right. Rusty stick skills. I remember.”

He chortled. “Yours remain top notch though, my love.”

I smiled smugly. “They do, don’t they?”

He raised his index finger. “Although, technically, you didn’t actually make use of them this go round, did you?”

“I’ll make up for it next time.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Well I’d fucking hope you’d hold me to it. That’s the whole point.” I saw a McDonald’s sign in the distance. “Dude, I want some French fries in the WORST way. And a chocolate milkshake. You game?’

“I most certainly am.”

“If you behave I’ll let you have my cherry.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

“How rude.”

“Perhaps. But true.”

“Not entirely true.”

“What do you mean, not entirely true?”

I turned off the highway and into the parking lot. The drive through line was mobbed, but the lot itself was relatively empty. “I mean that the fact that it’s a bit late for you to have my cherry is only partially correct.”

He stared at me as I engaged the parking brake, puzzled, then shook his head. “I’m not following.”

The left corner of my mouth scrunched up in mock irritation. “Really? Are you sure?” He shrugged, palms up. “Think about all we’ve…done.”

“Maude.”

“Good. Now think about what we haven’t done.” I gave him a few moments to review, watching his face closely so I’d see it dawn on him. 3…2…1…aaaannndd there it was. His jaw slackened, hips lifting almost imperceptibly. “That’s right. I’ve played around, sure, but as far as actually having a cock in my ass…nope. Which means, technically, my anal cherry is still intact.”

He covered his face with his hands, groaning, but said nothing.

I went in for the kill. “So, Thomas…tell me. Would you like my cherry?”

Shaking his head, face still hidden, he spoke in a low voice. “Maude.” He paused, remaining silent for quite some time, seemingly avoiding my question. I wondered if I’d overstepped some sort of boundary, pushing him too far.

My mind was racing, and I frowned. “Wow. I’m really sorry, Tom.”

He uncovered his face to take my hand, gazing at me with eyes full of concern. “Whatever for?”

“Because I put you on the spot there and just assumed it’s something you’d want to participate in. I didn’t stop to think that it’s something that might not be up everyone’s alley.” I rolled my eyes. “That didn’t come out…shit…DAMN. Anyway, that was incredibly presumptuous and I apologize for letting myself get so carried away. Please don’t feel like it’s something you have to…”

He leaned in to kiss me forcefully, covering my entire mouth with his, tongue darting over my lips, then pulled away before I could fully engage. “May I answer your question now?”

I shook my head. “Tom, you don’t need…”

“I know I don’t need to, but I WANT to. My answer is, with undeniable certainty, yes. Please accept my apology for not answering straight away. I’m afraid I was too busy thinking about how deliciously tight you’re going to feel around me and then I remembered that you aren’t wearing panties and it was all I could do to stop myself from dragging you onto my lap and fucking you right here in the McDonald’s parking lot.”

His eyes met mine, nostrils flaring, pupils blown wide open. Never before had I been able to do this to a man, make him want me so desperately using nothing but words. He squeezed my hand.

“That you’d trust me with something so intimate, bequeathing me such a precious gift, wishing to share something that you’ve not yet experienced with another, is…I’m honored, humbled, awestruck…so very many things.” He smiled timidly. “I’ve never been someone’s first anything before.”

My brows shot up, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

“Maude, there’s something I’d like to ask you, but…”

“Shoot.”

“All right. This may be terribly intrusive, and feel free to not answer it if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but…knowing what I do about you, sexually, I’m…surprised…that you…erm, never…anyway, I suppose I’m just wondering why.”

I sighed. Good job, Maude. This is what you get for trying to be a seductress.

“Long story short, you’re only the fourth person I’ve been intimate with. The first two were before I was twenty and not even remotely interested in such a thing. By the third I was very interested, but things fell apart before it happened.” I put my arms on the steering wheel and rested my forehead on them for a moment, then raised my head and turned to him. I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.

“Okay, I’m not sure if that look means ‘I didn’t need to hear that’ or ‘wow, only three, what a loser’.”

He shook his head. “It’s neither. Well, maybe a bit of the first one, because the idea of you being with someone else is much more unpleasant than I would have imagined, but…it was mostly surprise that such an incredibly beautiful, intelligent, hilarious woman wouldn’t have men lining up to be with her.”

“Thomas. Stop being so fucking wonderful, won’t you? Christ. There was no line, believe me. I’ve always been at least a little chubby, but after I moved to New York I put on a huge amount of weight. There are reasons for that, but that’s another story for another time. By 2003 I was tipping the scales at two hundred and forty-seven pounds. I’ve always been a confident person, and I honestly never cared what anyone else thought about the way I looked, but…you know what I’m getting at here, I think. In late 2008 I started feeling like shit, and Anne, who’d nearly died due to undiagnosed diabetes in 2003, pushed me to see a doctor. Sure enough, that was the problem. It was early, and resolvable with lifestyle modifications. So, I kicked myself in the ass, and over the next year I lost more than eighty pounds, and that was when I…a woman in her sexual prime, in the best shape of her life…met number three. God bless him…I was on a mission, making up for lost time and he could barely keep up with me. One time I actually thought he was going to need an ambulance…sheese, why I am telling you this? Yikes. Sorry. Lord knows I don’t want to hear anything like it from you.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “Let’s pretend this never happened and go get those milkshakes, m’kay?”

He grabbed my arm as I opened the door, and I turned to meet his gaze. “I…Maude…I just…you are…everything about you…” He shook his head. “I fall deeper in love with you with every passing moment.”

“Right back atcha, baby.” He laughed. “Yeah. No way I was going to try and out-eloquent you there. Waste of time and energy.”

We went inside, his arm around my shoulders, and ordered two Happy Meals when we saw the new toys were Minions. Neither of us could resist playing with them as we ate. Tom went back for a Big Mac and chicken nuggets, which I shared. He stuck his fingers in through the lid of my milkshake, deftly picking up the cherry and popping it in his mouth, a huge smile on his face.

We both used the bathroom, separately, and as we were walking back to the Jeep I heard the voice of a young boy.

“Mom, Mom! That man over there! That’s the man you’re always looking at on your computer!”

A woman replied to him. “Mason, what are you talking ab…?” And with that, I knew she’d seen Tom. I pulled at his shirt, and he looked down at me and nodded. We turned around and waved. The woman was about my age, maybe a little older, and she looked like she might die of embarrassment when she realized we’d overheard their conversation. Tom strode over, hand extended.

“Hi there. Tom Hiddleston. And you are?” She moved as if in a trance, hand out, and he grasped it gently and shook.

“I…uh…um…Sarah. I’m Sarah. And this is my son, Mason.”

Tom beamed and shook Mason’s hand as well. “Lovely to meet you both.”

Sarah reached into her purse, dug around and pulled out a Coriolanus program. She cleared her throat. “I heard that you’d be on the island and I’ve been carrying this with me, you know, just in case.”

He took it from her. “Were you in attendance?”

Mason piped up. “We flew all the way across two oceans so she could go see your show. I saw Big Ben. It was really cool.”

Sarah was bright red. “I saw it twice, actually, but didn’t have time to stay after.”

Tom pulled a sharpie out of his back pocket. “May I?”

She grinned. “Please do.” He signed his name, as well as a message. ‘Sorry to have missed you there, but better late than never. Glad to finally have met you. XO’”

As he handed it back to her he asked if she’d like a picture with him. He introduced us, and I volunteered to do the honors so Mason could squeeze in as well. I gave him my Minion to keep him occupied while I took some shots of just Sarah and Tom. He held it up to give it back to me when I handed Sarah back her phone.

“Nope, buddy, that’s yours now.” I held out my hand to Tom and he put his toy in it. “In fact, you can have Tom’s too. This way he gets to stay with his friend and won’t be lonely.” He thanked me so quietly I could barely hear him, eyes full of wonder at what to an adult was such a small gesture.

Tom hugged them both goodbye, and Sarah embraced me as well. She smiled at my surprise. “Thank you, both of you, so much.”

Tom put his arm around my waist as we walked the rest of the way back to the Jeep, placing a quick kiss on the top of my head.

“It is my personal opinion that you’re a much kinder, gentler person than you’d like everyone to believe.”

I sighed. “Yeah, yeah. And it’s all your fucking fault, too.”


	12. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 12

Sleep eluded me after our parking lot conversation. Tom and I had taken a long bath together, during which neither of us were injured, surprisingly, then went down to the beach so we could listen to the waves crashing on the rocks prior to retiring for the night. Luke and Simon had popped out for a quick hello and a late night swim, then disappeared again into the privacy of their suite. I was beginning to think they might have us beat as far as incorrigible went, then quickly stopped myself before my mind wandered into what-has-been-seen-can-never-be-unseen territory.

Tom was out like a light in a matter of minutes, while I tossed and turned like a dog with a bad case of fleas. I knew it was pointless to continue to try and doze off, so I said fuck it and decided to get up and attempt to get some work done. I wormed my way out from under Tom’s leg, climbed out of bed, put on some shorts, grabbed my laptop and headed for the door. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep, and I waited until he was silent again before I opened it, padding in my bare feet through the soundless house and out onto the lanai.

After trying to determine whether to go with a horizontal or a vertical menu on Tom’s site for forty-two minutes, I called it quits and perused Twitter comments instead. Alani’s tweet had amassed the most, and screenshots had spread to Tumblr. Honestly, I was glad of the way she’d mentioned me in such a specific context …there was very little, if any, speculation about whether or not I was, in fact, his girlfriend. Everything was out in the open, which I always thought was the best choice. Though the initial negativity was far worse than if the topic’s legitimacy was in question, it would likely die down much more quickly. That’s how it had worked for clients in the past, anyway. Hopefully my methodology would apply to my own situation as well.

My revelation regarding my weight plagued me…I replayed what I’d said over and over, and I wished I’d gone into greater detail. I hadn’t meant to impose a blanket statement that being overweight was unhealthy, or that it made one unworthy of attention from the opposite sex – or the same sex, or both, whichever was personally preferable, of course. That’s not what I believed, at all. Quite the contrary. Beauty comes in all shapes, colors and sizes and is entirely dependent upon the eye of the beholder, and if said beholder opts to eliminate certain sizes from their pool of eligible candidates, that’s their choice. And their loss. 

And as far as health was concerned…illness doesn’t discriminate based upon the number on the scale. It can strike anyone, at any time, and originates from a multitude of factors that are more often than not out of our control entirely. Unfortunately for me, a poor genetic inheritance and horrifically nutritionally deficient diet, combined with an excess of weight and my wickedly sedentary lifestyle had compromised my health considerably. Losing weight seemed to be a better option than medication, though there were many, many days on which I questioned that choice. Usually while sweating my ass off, literally, on the treadmill in some hotel gym. In all honesty, if I hadn’t been diagnosed with early stage diabetes, I probably wouldn’t have changed a thing about the way I lived my life.

“Maude, think about something else, you schmuck. This is a rabbit hole you do NOT want to go down at 2 AM.”

I sighed. Too late.

I’d told Tom there were reasons for me putting on a significant amount of weight, and my sleep deprived brain decided that this was the ideal time to refresh my memory as to what they were. I tapped my finger on the table and quietly ticked them off out loud.

“Let’s see, we’ve got… pain, anger, grief, depression, replacing one addiction with another, self-medicating, a convenient excuse that allowed me to reside in my fortress of solitude without constantly having to justify it to everyone because they’d be inclined to think ‘oh, she’s alone because she’s fat, you know, the poor thing’, and, my favorite, to spite my mother. Okay, maybe that’s not my favorite. Because food is fucking delicious. That’s my favorite. Plus, cardio sucks balls.”

Groaning, I crossed my arms on the table and rested my head on them, intending to collect my thoughts and get back to work. I woke up four hours later in a puddle of drool with Simon yammering in my ear.

“ ‘ello, Polly. Wakie Wakie!”

I raised my head and wiped the saliva off my face with my forearm.

“Ewe, Maude, that is so thoroughly vile. Were you out here all night?”

I nodded. “Don’t you even dare to ask me if I’m doing yoga with you today. I feel like grim death.”

He patted my head. “You look like it, too. But your excuses mean nothing to me. Shut up and go get your mat.”

I lowered my chin to my chest, peeled myself off of the chair and shuffled into the house, nearly smacking right into Tom as I opened our bedroom door. Brows raised, he pulled me inside and into his arms.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” I shook my head. “Want to talk about it?”

I shrugged, wishing I could talk about it, but knowing that anything I’d say would require additional context that I was not willing to supply. “Just another bout of insomnia brought on by chronic over analysis of every minute detail of my existence.”

“Oh, that’s all, is it?”

I feigned surprise. “What, that doesn’t happen to you?”

He grinned. “It does. Quite often, actually. But the sheer physical exhaustion that results from your incessant attentions seems to have solved that particular problem for the time being.” He ground his erection against me. “This problem, however, persists.”

“And it’s such big problem, too.” I bit his shoulder gently, then pulled back to look at his face. That beautiful, talented pink tongue was peeking out just the slightest bit from between his lips and I damn near lost my shit. He winked at me.

I poked him in the chest. “Well, Thomas, since you’re…up…why don’t you join me for some yoga?”

He rolled his eyes. “You mean you and Simon. I abhor doing yoga with Simon.”

I tilted my head. “Seriously? Why?”

He pinched my nose between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, shaking gently. “Because he’s so much better at it than I am, that’s why.”

It was my turn for eye rolling as I walked to the wardrobe to grab a bra, pulled off my sleeping shirt and slipped the bra straps over my hands, up my arms and backed towards him. “Hook a sister up, wouldja?”

He lifted the cups up over my breasts, tweaked both nipples, then wrestled them back into place and licked my neck as he connected the clasps. I moaned and pulled away. After putting on a fresh shirt, I turned around and walked past him toward the door, slapping him on the ass as I went.

“Nice try, Thomas, but we’re still doing yoga. Now you put on a fucking shirt and get that ass moving.”

He followed me. “Sorry, no.”

“Fine. I’ll just keep my eyes closed.”

“You won’t.”

I sighed. “No. I won’t.”

Simon’s snarkiness was at orange alert status due to Tom’s presence, and watching the two of them compete was wildly amusing. Tom was right, Simon was better, but watching Tom do yoga shirtless was better than any porno I’d ever seen. A light sheen of sweat coated his skin, and when he moved into camel pose I made a…sound. A gasp? A moan? A dying whale noise? I honestly couldn’t label it properly.

Simon turned his head to the side so he could face me without breaking his pose.

“What the hell was THAT, woman?”

“Nothing. Got a cramp. Just a little cramp. I’ll be fine. Carry on.”

He moved his arms above his head, brought them forward and sat on his haunches. He looked over at Tom, then back at me. “Mmm hmm. Cramp. Thomas, if you wouldn’t mind concealing your torso beneath some clothing next time so your girlfriend won’t blow my focus with her inappropriate vocalizations I’d be ever so appreciative.”

Tom chortled. “I’m rather fond of her inappropriate vocalizations, especially when she’s blo…”

Simon put is fingers in his ears and chanted loudly. “LA LA LA LA LA LA LA…”

I grabbed my iPod and put my earbuds in, hoping music would distract me. It was a successful strategy for the most part, and I felt myself shifting into the transcendent space that was the reason for me deciding upon yoga for both physical and mental fitness. Tom almost ruined it when I caught him staring at me during my easy plow pose, but I managed to breathe through it. While doing my cool down stretches, I wondered if the intense sexual chemistry between us and the overwhelming desire it fostered was because we were so new to each other, or if it was always going to be like this. I smiled, recalling Diana Gabaldon’s brilliant prose in Outlander, when Jamie is addressing Claire.

“Does it ever stop? The wanting you?“ "Even when I’ve just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.”

When I’d read it years ago, I thought it was beautifully written, but, you know, fictional. Filed under ‘shit that never happens in real life’. For once, I was totally okay with having been wrong about something.

We discussed our options for the holiday over a breakfast of the most mouth-wateringly delicious sausage, egg and cheese burritos I’d ever tasted. I wanted to work for a while, but that was shot down in a chorus of noes and ‘but-it’s-a-holiday’s. Our final destination of the evening would be the Nawiliwili Tavern, which was back on the other side of the island near the Marriott. It so happened that this was the first Saturday of the month, and that’s when Kaua’i’s gay community gathered there to celebrate with drink specials and, much to my wicked delight, karaoke. I needed to see Luke doing karaoke. It was inexplicable, but I just knew I NEEDED it to happen or I couldn’t go on with my life.

Since I’d yet to park my ass on a proper beach after an entire week on the island, I offered it up as my next suggestion. It was well received. Kalapaki Beach was a 14 mile ride from the house, but less than a mile from Nawiliwili Tavern. Available activities included volleyball, surf lessons, catamaran cruises, stand up paddle boarding, kayaking and body and boogie boarding, none of which I was interested in but were certain to keep my companions occupied if sitting on a lounge and reading all day wasn’t their idea of fun.

Simon got to work assembling a picnic lunch, Luke and Tom each had another burrito, and I hit the shower. Afterward, I sat on the bed wrapped in my towel as I waited to air dry enough so I could squeeze into my bathing suit. Tom walked in, bent down to kiss me, rammed his tongue in my mouth, then dropped his shorts and paraded around the corner for his turn under the spray.

I packed a small bag before dressing since we wouldn’t be coming back home…black Birkenstocks, a pair of hiking shorts, a black V-neck tee shirt, underwear, a bra, hair ties, my beach towel, Finders Keepers, Neuromancer, my iPod, my phone and my glasses. Just in case.

My bathing suit was still buried at the bottom of my suitcase, but it didn’t look any worse for wear when I shook it out. It was black, halter style, with cutouts along both sides and a built in strapless bra so I wouldn’t look like Saggytits McSaggerton. Anyone who claims to have natural double D’s with nipples that point anywhere other than down is utterly full of shit. Or maybe that should be udderly. I was still giggling to myself when I heard the shower turn off, and I quickly tossed my gauzy black cover-up over my head and slipped on the pair of flip flops I’d also unearthed from my suitcase.

Tom came out, dripping wet, towel slung low around his hips. I told him I’d meet him in the living room and used the half bath in the hall for my last pee so I wouldn’t have to watch him dress, then helped Simon gather beverages and put them in the cooler. We decided to take the car instead of the Jeep as it had actually room for all our stuff, including the folding lounge chairs we’d found in the garage. Luke volunteered to drive on the way there if I’d be the designated driver on the way back home tonight, which was fine with me since I knew I’d be sober. I figured he did as well and hoped he’d keep it to himself, then wondered how the hell I’d handle it when the subject finally came up. Because it would. It always did.

**************************************************  
The beach was surprisingly empty…by my standards, anyway. Try the Jersey Shore on July 4th…you’d have to get there at the crack of dawn to get a decent spot, and someone would fucking steal it if you went to get a snack or use the restroom. Perhaps it was because there was a lot more beachfront to choose from here, or maybe everyone was boating or something, but I was thrilled that I wouldn’t be spending the day elbow to elbow with strangers.

We managed to get everything in one trip and set ourselves up about twenty feet back from the shoreline. I unfolded my chair, pulled Neuromancer out of my bag and set it gently on the sand, then relieved myself of my cover-up. Simon whistled loudly when he saw my suit.

“Maude, you look like a 1950’s pin up model in that thing. Those cutouts…va va va VOOM!”

Tom had his back to me, but spun around upon hearing Simon’s comment. He looked me up and down, then again. And again. I made a mental note to do some lingerie shopping ASAP, then plopped down in my chair with all the grace of a drunken hippo on rollerskates as I released a long, triumphant sigh.

“Ass in lounge chair. Goal achieved. Sand trophy awarded. Beach level unlocked.”

Tom leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I have my own goal to achieve, you know…and it also involves that luscious ass of yours. What’s the optimal way for me to go about unlocking it, Maude?”

I closed my eyes, hung my head down, shook it, then looked up and spoke through gritted teeth. “God, do you have any idea how much I hate being beaten at my own game?”

“I do now.” He grinned, then ran down the beach and into the ocean.

Over the course of the day I read most of Neuromancer, and Tom bought a copy for his tablet to read along with me. We paused after each chapter to discuss, noting the parallels between Gibson’s text and modern technology as well as how much the Matrix had liberally borrowed from his work. I was coerced into playing volleyball, despite citing that my bathing suit and my boobs were not meant for such activities. My refusal to jump led to a stunning loss, at which point Luke and Simon decided to go paddle boarding. Tom and I walked the shoreline, quietly enjoying each others company as we left our footprints behind in the wet sand. He ran in front of me, squatted down and drew a heart with an arrow through it and our initials in it. I rolled my eyes, squatted and drew two stick people fucking doggie style. We giggled like ten-year-olds as we ran away from our creations.

Luke was sitting on one of the lounges scrolling through his phone, and Simon was setting up lunch on a blanket he’d spread out when we returned from our walk. His culinary skills were mind-blowing…pesto, tomato and fresh mozzarella sandwiches served on toasted garlic bread, a platter of paper thin prosciutto, and little cups of mascarpone and dark chocolate cream topped with white chocolate shavings for desert. I glared at Luke, who had eaten his entire meal with his phone in his hand.

“Um, are you working over there, Luke?”

He looked up, frowning slightly. “I know, I know. I’m the one who said ‘but it’s a holiday’. We’re still getting lots of queries from prospective clients, though. And I’m not sure how to handle them all.”

“I’ll help you with it, if you want. Tomorrow. Now put that away and enjoy the day.” I laughed at my unintentional rhyme. “Damn, I’m funny when I’m not even trying.”

Simon grunted. “If you say so.”

I flipped him off, got up from my spot on the blanket and returned to my lounge chair, Tom already draped over the one to my left. He took my hand, I closed my eyes, and dozed off straight away, wiped out from my lack of sleep the night before.

My nap was rudely interrupted by Tom, bent over and shaking my shoulder gently.

“Maude, love, wake up.”

My eyelids fluttered open and I smacked his hand away. “Yeah. Fine. Awake. Why?”

He tipped his head back and to the right. “We’ve been spotted. Just fans, probably. No paparazzi yet.”

I yawned, stretching my arms above my head as I sat up to look and take a head count. Five, so far, about twenty feet away, phones raised. Three adults, two children. Adults were women, children a boy and a girl. Luke was in front of them, back to us, holding up his hands, saying something that I couldn’t quite make out over the roar of the waves. Simon was hovering nearby, watching and waiting. 

I hoisted myself out of the chair and stood next to Tom. I elbowed him in the side.

“Come on, cowboy. Let’s go do this.” I rooted in my bag, searching for my phone.

I felt his hand grasp my forearm, and I glanced up at him. He was staring at me, eyes wide. “Really? This is all right with you?”

I shrugged. “They’re just people. One smile from you will make their day, and then some. So, why not? Spend a few minutes, they’re happy, they leave, it’s done and we’re back to being beach bums.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What? Is it really so shocking that I practice what I preach?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe it’s that I’m just not used to…?”

I interjected. “…having someone around who doesn’t think that they’re several rungs higher on the social ladder than the folks who are a huge part of what makes your successful career possible?”

“Oh, I like that. Let’s go with that.”

Twenty minutes later, the crowd had dispersed, Luke had informed me that I was a natural at wrangling fans as well as Tom and that this was my one true calling, and Simon was itching to move on to Nawiliwili Tavern before the crowds hit the beaches in hopes of getting a better view of the fireworks. I’d forgotten that sand was so intrusive and decided to shower before changing in one of the stalls provided, Tom keeping watch for me. I did the same while he rinsed and dressed. Simon and Luke were wearing matching Hawaiian shirts, which I thought was adorable, though the shirts themselves were hideous. Tom emerged wearing a tight white V-neck and tan shorts, and I wondered how in the hell I was going to make it through the evening without spontaneously combusting.

Simon, several yards in front of us with Luke as we all walked back to the car, began chanting, fists in the air. “KARaoke, KARaoke, KARaoke!”

Tom gave me a lopsided grin, eyes alight with mischief. “Care to wager on Luke’s participation again, Maude?”

“What stakes?”

“A late night dalliance of the oral persuasion, underneath the moon and stars? Winner is the receiver.”

“You’re on. Though that’s not really much of an incentive.”

His mouth dropped open. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll enjoy it just as much whether I win or lose.”

He sucked my earlobe into his mouth, then flicked it repeatedly with his tongue. “Are you certain that’s the case?”

“Not anymore.”

“Good.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom. Terms?”

“Guess how many alcoholic beverages he’ll need to consume before he’s loosened up enough to sing in front of an entire bar. We each pick a number, one closest without going over wins. I choose five. Absolutely NO coercion or interference from either of us.”

“Fine. I’m going with two.”

He laughed. “Luke needs to be intoxicated in order to sing, period. He doesn’t even sing in the car, to the best of my knowledge. So very many drinks would be required for him to perform in public that he’ll likely pass out first. You won’t win.”

“Yes. I will. I’m already plotting all the things I’m going to make you do with that tongue of yours….” 

“Damn.”

“Damn right.”

**************************************************  
From the outside, the Nawiliwili Tavern is an unassuming white building with green and red accents. Inside, it’s a quirky, homey, wood-laden watering hole with televisions everywhere, a horseshoe shaped bar, a Foosball table, a pool table, lots of neon and local artifacts aplenty. Karaoke happened right smack in the middle of all the action, and when we walked in the place was packed, with a grey-haired gentleman in a white tank top and Bermuda shorts belting out Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’. There wasn’t an official dance floor, but that didn’t seem to hamper the crowd’s enthusiasm as they moved and shook in place.

Simon turned to me and grabbed my hands, shouting above the din. “Maude, I have found my people. And if they’re my people, I’m thinking they might just be your people, too. Are they your people?”

I nodded as he dragged me closer to the sound system speakers, still shouting. “LET US DANCE WITH OUR PEOPLE!”

Luke and Tom joined us after the song had ended and things quieted down as the next person browsed the available selections. Luke had two Blue Hawaii drinks, one for himself and the other for Simon, and Tom had something that looked like orange juice in a hurricane glass and what I assumed was a Coke for me.

He smiled widely and handed me the tumbler. “Nice moves there, darling. Since you’re the designated driver I brought you a soda. They don’t have Coke, only Pepsi. Hope that’s acceptable.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to make do.” I kissed his cheek, then pointed to his drink. “Thank you. Now, tell me what the hell that thing is.”

He caressed the side of the glass, running his fingers over its curves. “This is a Tropical Itch. Rum, vodka passion orange juice and orange curacao. Bamboo backscratcher included at no extra charge.” He took a sip, then offered me one.

I shook my head. “I’m driving, remember?”

He pouted. “So there’s no chance of me getting you snockered and having my way with you?”

I snorted. “Riiight. Because you haven’t had your way with me already.” I grabbed his ass and he emitted a low hiss.

“Minx.” His tone seemed…off. I looked up at him, noting that his expression didn’t quite align with his words, either. He met my gaze, then shifted his eyes to the side for a moment, then back to me as he smiled softly. I knew instantly that the topic of my lack of participation in the consumption of alcohol had reared its ugly head while he and Luke were ordering drinks, and that he’d offered me a sip and posed his suggestive question in the hopes that I’d volunteer an answer to another question…the one he’d rather not have to ask.

It wasn’t as if I’d never been down this road before, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. And this time, I actually gave a shit about the reaction I’d get, which was terrifying but I decided it wouldn’t get any less awkward as time went on. And if I was lucky, he wouldn’t press me for too much background information. 

Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on his forearm and looked into his eyes. “To answer your question…no, Tom, I don’t drink. Historically, alcohol and I make incredibly poor bedfellows, so I’ve made it a point to abstain. Hope that doesn’t pose a problem.” I swallowed and cast my gaze downward as he put a hand on my shoulder.

“How did you know…I…lord, you…I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you seemingly reading my thoughts, though I certainly do adore it.” He kissed me briefly, his lips soft and warm, slightly sweet with orange and passionfruit juice. “I’m very sorry, Maude. When we were at the bar I initially ordered two Tropical Itches and Luke looked at me as if I had three heads and said ‘don’t tell me you’re such a dolt that you haven’t noticed that she doesn’t drink’, and apparently I am such a dolt because, I hadn’t. I asked if you told him why and he said you hadn’t even told him you didn’t but unlike me he actually possesses observational skills so he picked up on it and that it wasn’t anyone’s business but yours and if you wanted me to know you’d tell me, but…”

He paused, waiting for a response from me. I met his gaze but remained silent.

“I…Maude…of course it’s not a problem for me, not at all…but…is it a problem for you that I do drink? I suppose if it was you would have mentioned it or run for the hills already…shit, I…please, say something before I make an even bigger arse of myself, won’t you?”

“You aren’t making an arse of yourself, Tom. That’s an odd word, isn’t it? Arse. Doesn’t sit well on the tongue.” He raised his left eyebrow, smirking just the tiniest bit. “Other people’s drinking preferences are of no concern to me as long as they don’t impact my own existence in a seriously detrimental fashion.” I patted his bicep. “For the record, abysmal drunken singing is not automatically considered to be seriously detrimental. That’s a case by case basis kind of thing.”

He crossed his hands at the wrist and put them on his chest, right above his heart. “I am deeply offended that you believe my singing will be…abysmal.”

I shrugged. “I was actually referring to the lovely woman currently butchering ‘We Built This City’, which is bad enough when sung on key. But if you think the shoe fits, prove me wrong, Thomas. Get in the karaoke line.”

He leaned down, frowning as he touched his forehead to mine. “You okay?”

“Good, actually. I’ve been dreading that whole conversation. I always wind up feeling like a freak show because the general consensus is that if you don’t party there must be something really, really wrong with you.’”

“Again, my apologies. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Someday. Thank you. And no need to apologize. By our own admissions, there’s still a ton of shit we don’t know about each other yet. Please, never be afraid to ask me questions, Tom. I’ll always answer as best I can.” I chuckled.

“What?”

“At least you didn’t ask me if it was because it’s against my religion.”

“You’ve been asked that?”

“Yes. Yes I have.”

“Might I inquire as to what your reply was?”

“Let’s just say the conversation went sideways. And that the person hasn’t spoken to me since.” His brow furrowed. “Turned out they didn’t appreciate being lectured on the impact of religion on personal freedom and how it was engineered from the start as a means of controlling the populous…”

Simon came bounding over and put his arm around my waist. “Time for singing, Maude. Let’s go.”

I raised both eyebrows and handed Tom my soda. “Um, okay…mind telling me WHAT it is we’re singing?”

He poked his index finger at my chest. “We will be performing one of my personal favorites – ‘It’s Raining Men’ by the Weather Girls.”

Tom threw his head back and laughed, then fished his phone out of his pocket and waved it at me.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Film away, baby. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back in the habit of tweeting more than once every hundred years.”

We sang, we danced, and by the end of the song most of the bar had joined in. After enjoying a round of applause, Simon and I found Tom and Luke in the crowd and pushed and shoved our way to them. I sucked down my entire soda and set the glass on the nearest table while Luke handed Simon a Tropical Itch. He was still nursing his first Blue Hawaii. Simon kissed his cheek.

“Your turn, love. Come sing with me.”

I grinned evilly at Tom. He shook his head. Luke handed me his drink.

“Watch this for me, will you?” I nodded, and Simon passed off his beverage to Tom. I pulled out my phone since I had a hand free, then realized I was way too fucking short to be able to get anything other than the heads of the people in front of me. Tom had set the rest of the drinks on a table, and took Luke’s from me and put it there as well. He held out his hand, palm up.

“May I do the honors?”

I handed over my phone. “Please do. I can’t see for shit.”

He took my hand and worked his way to the front of the crowd so he was directly in front of Luke and Simon, then moved behind me. When the first notes of the song hit my ears and I realized it was ‘I Got You Babe’ I believe I may have actually squealed with delight. Luke did Sonny’s parts, and Simon did Cher’s. It was adorable, the depth of their feelings for each other so blatantly apparent that it moved me to tears. I felt Tom’s arm slip around my waist, followed by him kissing the back of my neck. Looking around the room, I saw that nearly every other couple was entwined in some way, swaying to the music. Tom managed to capture it all, and as soon as the song ended I grabbed the phone and logged into Twitter.

My boss, Luke. My co-worker (and Luke’s fiancé), Simon. Karaoke USUALLY only makes me cry because the singing is SO very bad. #happytearstonightthough #igotyoubabe #tooadorable #thisjobgetsbetterandbetter

Tom whispered in my ear as he slowly lowered his hand from my waist to my belly. “Well, it appears you’ve won again, Maude. I’m anxiously awaiting the settlement of my debt.”

“You should stop talking, Thomas. Rest that tongue.” He pressed me back against him and I could feel him hard against my ass. I clenched, knowing his hand was in just the right spot to feel everything tighten. His groan almost made me come right there, in the middle of the bar.

“Maaaaauuuuddee.” He bit my neck, and as I turned my head to the side to allow him better access I noticed a woman a few feet away with her camera pointed in our direction. I waved, hearing her gasp as she quickly turned around. I chuckled, and Tom mumbled into my neck. “What’s funny?”

“Prepare yourself, dude. I just caught some woman taking pictures of us…which are totally going to show up on Tumblr any second now.”

“Good. I want the world to know you’re all mine.” He growled and laved the spot he’d bitten with his tongue, then released me as Simon and Luke approached us. “I do believe it’s time for my abysmal performance.”

I rolled my eyes and burst into song. “Let it go, let it GOOOOO…” He blew me a kiss and began perusing the song catalog.

Simon crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “He’ll do Piano Man. I guarantee it.”

I shrugged. “I have no point of reference for his karaoke habits, so I guess I’ll have to take you at your word.”

When Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’ began to play, Simon’s jaw dropped and he patted his pockets frantically as he tried to locate his phone. “Well, fuck me. This is definitely not ‘Piano Man’! Shit, where is my phone?!”

I handed him mine. “Will you film so I can watch him, please?”

He pinched my cheek. “No, let’s make Luke do it. I can’t stand still during this song.”

Luke sighed, but obliged. Since Tom had taken center stage, so to speak, more people began to recognize him. Cameras were raised all around the bar, some patrons standing on tables to get a better view. I heard him singing, and was surprised at how good he sounded, but the majority of my focus was directed upon watching him move. His hips gyrating, pelvis thrusting, spinning with his arms extended, jawline and cheekbones so perfectly shadowed in the dim lighting of the bar. I was sure I heard ‘get Loki’ from somewhere in the crowd a few times, which made me grin like an idiot. It was all over before I could truly process what I’d just witnessed, the sound of the crowd clapping and cheering snapping me back to reality as I watched him bow deeply several times. As he strode toward me, everything else faded in to a blur, and all I saw was Tom. He picked me up and spun me around as if I was as light as a feather, then set me down and dipped me as he kissed me. His smile as he set me upright again nearly made me swoon.

“Well? Was it as terrible as you expected?”

I punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. You’re well aware that you were fucking amazing.”

Simon gave my phone back. “Post it, Maude. POST IT.”

Oh look, it’s this guy again. Karaoke. Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’. You’ve never seen it done like this before, trust me. You’re welcome. :) #upallnightforgoodfun? #indeed

Luke’s phone dinged. He checked it, and suddenly his head lolled back, eyes closed, mouth open and tongue protruding.

Simon snorted. “Whoops, I think you finally did him in with that one, honey.”

Tom peeked at the screen over my shoulder and cackled. “Since it’s entirely your fault I expect you’ll be covering all of the funeral expenses?”

I wiggled my fingers and tickled Luke just under his armpit. He tried to maintain his composure but was unable to resist, finally dissolving into a puddle of giggles.

Simon shouted “IT’S ALIVE”, which earned him a huge hug and a rather lengthy kiss. I looked up and Tom, who firmly planted his hand on my back and walked me to the laptop that contained the song list.

“Your turn, my love.”

The left corner of my mouth turned down. “Um, you’re kind of a tough act to follow, you know.”

He shook his head. “I’ve heard you sing. No one will even remember what I did when you’re through.” He kissed my cheek and went to rejoin Luke and Simon, his phone in his hand, ready to record.

I considered Blondie’s ‘One Way or Another’ but decided it was a little too high for me in spots, thought about Adelle’s ‘Skyfall’, which was well within my range but not really a crowd pleaser, and then I found it. Amy Winehouse, ‘Back to Black’. A little raunchy at times, brutally honest and incredibly dark…rather like me. Perfection. It had been at least fifteen years since I’d sung in front of an audience of more than a few people in public, and they were forced to listen to me because we were in the grocery store or on a plane, but I was incredibly calm. I’d sung this one more times than I could remember, and I knew it inside out and upside down. I hit the button and grabbed the microphone, ready to roll.

Halfway through I noticed that the room had gone quiet, not a single sound to be heard other than the music and…me. I knew if I looked at Tom I’d fuck up royally, so I kept my eyes on the screen. When I finished the silence continued for what seemed like an eternity, broken suddenly by thunderous applause, whistles and cat calls. I bowed, then searched the faces around me, trying to find Tom. I saw Luke and Simon, but he wasn’t with them. I made my way over, head tilted, questioning.

Simon pointed to a nearby table. “Honey, you were so good the man had to go sit the fuck down. And I got it all on video. Luke filmed you, and I filmed Tom watching you. Your grandkids will thank me. Or throw up in their mouths a little. Something.”

I followed Simon’s finger, and there was Tom, sitting in a chair, legs spread wide, hands on his thighs, head down and looking at the floor. I approached him slowly, coming to rest between his legs. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. I put one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head, stroking his hair. I heard the first strains of Rick Astley’s ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ and turned to see Simon, mic in hand, doing his best impression of Rick’s dancing . I gently pried Tom’s arms from around me, slid down and squatted in front of him. His eyes were still directed at the hardwood floor. I leaned my head in and under in an attempt to get him to look at me.

“Hi there.” He raised his head ever so slowly, mouth turned up at the corners almost imperceptibly. His eyes wavered from angry to pained, aroused, and then to adoring as his emotions cycled. He stood, taking my hands and pulling me up with him, then let go so he could place them firmly on my shoulders as he stared at me.

His words came out haltingly, but firm. “I. Love. You.”

I reached out to cup his jaw and ran my thumb along his cheekbone. “And I love you.”

“That was both beautiful and terrible all at once, Maude.”

“Okaaaay…”

“There was so much pain in your voice…raw, naked, real pain.”

“Maybe I’m just a top-notch performer.”

He took two steps towards me, closing the gap between us, his hands still on my shoulders, eyes ablaze. “Is it wrong that I want to decimate whomever is responsible for that pain?”

I shook my head, wishing it was that simple. He let his hands slide down my arms until they were clutching my elbows.

“In addition to that, I’m overwhelmed with pride, joy, and, more than anything else, desire. Everything I’m feeling is a jumbled, incoherent mess and I need you in order to sort it all out. Right now. I need to be inside you, to feel you all around me, your skin against mine, flushed red by the pleasure we’re giving each other, enveloped by your scent…” His hands were shaking, eyes full of desperation. “I…I…just…I need you. I need you, lest I lose my fucking mind, Maude.”

It took all the willpower I possessed to not fuck him senseless right then and there. I felt in my pocket to make sure the car keys Luke had given me when we arrived were still there. Check. The vehicle was roomy enough, I thought, and the windows were darkly tinted to ensure the occupants could remain relatively anonymous. I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text to Simon, who was just finishing up and basking in the accolades bestowed upon him by the bar’s patrons.

We’re taking a little ride. Won’t be long, about thirty or forty minutes max. Everything’s fine, Tom just needs some air. - XO, M

Talk about uncharted fucking territory. I pushed any negative thoughts aside, telling myself that yes, it is perfectly normal and absolutely possible to grow to love someone so deeply in such a short period of time that you began to need them as much as you needed…well, air. I took Tom by the hand and led him out to the parking lot, and he hesitated when I opened the door for him.

“Maude?”

“Get in the car, Tom.” He complied. I hopped in, put on my seat belt, turned the engine over, put it in reverse and backed out of the parking space. I forgot to brake as I tried to shift it into drive, corrected myself, and headed down the road to find what I was looking for. Two miles down, there it was. A large office complex, dimly lit and completely deserted as it had been when we passed it on the way to the bar. Since it was a holiday, I was reasonably sure it would remain that way. As I pulled into the lot Tom finally realized what I was up to. He unbuckled his seat belt, leaned into me and began licking the hollow between my collarbones as he wriggled his hand under the waistband of my baggy shorts.

“You need to stop that or I’m going to wind up driving the car right through the fucking building.”

He ignored me and began rubbing my mound with the palm of his hand while he slipped three fingers inside me. I drove around to the rear of the property and parked as far back as I could, right next to a privacy fence. He climbed on top of me as soon as I put it park, devouring my mouth, his free hand in my hair as the other worked me into a frenzy. I rode his hand, fingernails raking up and down the back of his white V-neck, screaming his name as I came. He opened the driver side door, rose up off of me and gracefully exited the vehicle, hand extended. I took it, and he helped me up. Neither of us spoke.

I opened the trunk, searched for our beach towels and spread all of them across the back seat, tucking the edges into the space between the top and the bottom of the bench. I didn’t think it was nearly long enough for him to stretch out, but we’d most likely be able to fit without having to leave the door open. I turned around to find him completely naked, cock standing proudly erect. I yanked my T-shirt over my head while he unhooked my bra, taking a breast in each hand, bending to suck on my nipples in turn as I wiggled out of my shorts and underwear. He stood back to look at me in the moonlight, fireworks sounding off in the distance and reflecting in his eyes, then moved closer to touch my face with his fingertips. He pushed me backward gently, motioning for me to lie down on the seat. I squirmed as I did, struggling to find a comfortable position, and when I finally stilled he bent over, entered the car headfirst, closed the door behind him, then crawled between my legs and up my body like a cat. He looked as if he wanted to eat me alive, and I was SO totally fine with that.

I could feel him hard against me, poised at my entrance. He stared at me, unmoving, waiting. For what, I didn’t know. His voice startled me when he spoke.

“Will you let me make love to you, Maude?”

I raised my hips, shifting so the head of his cock slid into me. “Please, Thomas. Fuck me.” He pulled back and out of my reach.

“No. I don’t want to just fuck you. I want to make love to you. Pleasure your body with the reverence it deserves.”

The realization that I had no idea what that actually meant hit me like a freight train. I panicked, then decided to opt for honesty.

“I don’t think I know how that’s supposed to work.”

“You let go and let me love you. That’s how it works.”

I frowned. “Still not getting it.”

He resumed staring at me, and it slowly dawned on me that what he so desperately needed was not just a physical connection, but an emotional one as well, wherein we focused on the way our bodies came together, instead of them just…coming. Two people becoming one. Possessing each other fully, completely. I twined my legs with his.

“Take me, Thomas. Make me yours.”

He thrust his tongue into my mouth as he sank into me, his lips finally closing over mine, our breath mingling. He propped himself up on his elbows, raised my hands so they lay beside my head, then wrapped his fingers around mine as he rested his full weight on me.

Our tongues danced around each other, pulling back, pushing forward, licking, mouths sucking, teeth biting. He lifted his head so he could meet my gaze as he began to move, a fraction of an inch at a time at first, finally pulling nearly all the way out then sheathing himself fully over and over again. I was panting, and the urge to clamp down on him was overwhelming, but I breathed deeply and concentrated on the way our bodies joined, fitting each other so perfectly, the way his cock felt when it was completely buried in my cunt, the way it dragged against my walls as he thrust in and pulled back again and again. This beautiful man above me, looking deep into my soul, making me feel like I was his entire world. And he was mine. There was nothing else, just us, skin on skin, pleasure emanating from where we connected, and I never wanted it to end.

I felt him twitch inside me, and our eyes locked. He sped up, full weight still on me, hips undulating like waves. My breasts moved with him as he rocked us, nipples rubbing against the hair on his chest, his pubic bone pressing deliciously against my clit with every thrust. The tension in my belly rose, setting me alight, the fire spreading throughout my entire body. When I began to shudder, he let go of my hands and slid both arms underneath me, raising my upper body to him, cradling me, one hand buried in my hair and holding my head, my name an invocation on his lips.

I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him as if I were drowning and he was the only one who could save me, starting into his eyes as I…let go. It was almost an out of body experience, an orgasm that seemed to go on forever, involving every molecule that comprised the shell that housed my spirit. An explosion, bathing me in warm, bright light. And he was right there with me, coming and coming deep inside me, anointing our union with his essence.

I burst into tears, overcome with emotion. He moved his hands to my thighs, lifting me, and shifted us, still joined, to a sitting position so I was on his lap, holding me and rubbing my back as I sobbed against his neck.

“Shh, shh, I’m here, I’m here.”

The minutes ticked by, and as my storm subsided I lifted my head and brushed away my tears with my forearm, then placed my hands on either side of his face, leaning in close.

“I love you, Thomas. Sorry for falling apart. I…it’s…I…I’ve never experienced anything like what just happened before. Ever. Not even close. Thank you. For that. And for loving me.”

He rested his forehead against mine, eyes wet with tears of his own. “And oh, how I do love you. Please don’t be sorry, Maude. The fact that your feelings about me, about us, are so intense means…well, everything. And I’m the one should be thanking you. You gave me what I needed. You let me in. You let go. You gave me you. All of you.”

We held each other until I began tittering softly.

He cocked his head. “What?”

“Nothing.” He raised his brows at me. “Fine. It’s just…we’re having, like, this MOMENT and then I remembered that we’re naked in a fucking rental car in a parking lot on the 4th of July in Hawaii and that we totally ditched Simon and Luke at a bar like we’re a couple of fucking horny teenagers and…” I was laughing so hard that I thought I was going to pee my pants, and then I realized that I wasn’t wearing pants and that pushed me over the edge and I was crying again.

Tom’s laughter began as a low rumble in his chest, then escalated to full on guffawing, and soon enough we were both weeping and clutching at each other.

Once we could look at each other again without losing our shit, he grabbed the towel nearest to us and slipped it under me as I lifted myself off of him, then opened the car door to gather the clothes we’d strewn across the macadam. He dressed me, kissing me everywhere as he went. My ankles, the backs of my knees, my belly button, up and down my spine, my eyelids. When I wanted to return the favor he refused.

“If your lips even so much as graze my skin, we’ll never make it back to Nawiliwili tonight.”

Since he hadn’t even finished his first drink, I let him drive while I checked my phone. There was a text from Simon, sent five minutes ago.

Your forty minutes were up ten minutes ago, girlie. I’m a total slut for karaoke, but I don’t think my voice can take much more. Get your asses back here, please. – XO, S

I texted him back.

We’re on our way. Be there in two minutes. I’d say I’m sorry, but…I’m really not, so… - XO, M

He replied immediately.

Bitch. ;P – XO, S

We parked and walked in, hand in hand. Simon and Luke were chatting away with another couple, and as we approached them I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see the woman from earlier who’d been taking pictures of us. Tom looked at me, and I nodded and let go of his hand so he could go join Luke and Simon.

“Um, hi. I’m really sorry to bother you but I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about before. It was really wrong for me to take pictures of you guys when you’re just living your lives. That was a totally private moment. I mean, I wouldn’t want a stranger taking a picture of me and my boyfriend like that…anyway, I didn’t post them online or anything, and I deleted them off my phone. I was just really excited because I’m a big fan and…so, yeah. Sorry for being an asshole.”

I patted her arm and smiled. “Thank you for apologizing. And since you didn’t post them, you are absolutely not an asshole as far as I’m concerned. I completely understand how it happened. He’s just so damn beautiful, how could you not, right?” She laughed. “Want to meet him?”

She blushed and held up her hands. “Oh, no, no…I couldn’t, not after what I did, I feel like such a shit.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on. And sorry, I forgot to ask…what’s your name?”

“Samantha.”

I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Samantha. I’m Maude.”

Her blush deepened. “I know.”

I brought her over to Tom, introduced her and took their picture, and when I told her it was fine to post it online she said she’d think about it but would probably have it printed instead. She thanked us and went back to her group of friends across the room. As Luke took a handful of glasses back to the bar, Simon pointed at me accusingly.

“You’ve had your fun, now I want mine. For the love of Christ, let’s get OUT of here already. And please tell me you’re a fast driver. Please.”

I nodded. “I am. But I’m not driving. Tom is.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oy. He drives like my grandpa. We’ll just have to fuck in the backseat on the way there then, I guess.”

Tom snickered, and I pretended to smack the back of his head.

Simon’s face scrunched up in disgust. “You didn’t. Did you?” I shrugged. “You did!”

Luke returned, brow furrowed. “Did what?”

Simon shook his head. “You don’t want to know. All I’m sayin’ is that I’m putting towels down before I sit in that car.”

I held up a finger. “Yeah. About those towels…”


	13. Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last week on Kaua’i…Maude finishes and launches Tom’s website, Tom joins Tumblr, Luke, Maude and Tom head to the airport to catch their flight to San Diego and Comic-Con. Some lovely conversations, Simon reveals some shockers about his past (which I didn’t even know until two days ago…how I love when that happens), and, oh, what else? Right. Anal erotica. If you don’t like reading about that sort of thing, consider yourself warned. Not essential to the story, really, so you can just scroll past if you want. Thought this was only going to be 5K words or so, but instead it’s 8K. Someone just won’t shut up. Thank you, as always, for your patience, your kindness, your feedback, and for READING. Drop me an ask if you have questions or comments…always lovely to hear from folks. :)

We’d all headed directly to our rooms as soon as we arrived back at the beach house, deciding to leave everything in the trunk until the following day. Or whenever. Luke and Simon couldn’t keep their hands off each other on the ride home, and after my encounter with Tom it struck me as quite beautiful as opposed to totally squicky, which is what my normal reaction would have been. Tom and I were both exhausted, stripping naked as soon as our room door was closed, clambering into bed and falling asleep in each other’s arms straight away.

I was the first in the house to awaken, sitting up next to Tom at eleven AM to check my phone, which I’d left on the end table. There was one text from Anne, sent at nine AM her time.

I know you don’t want to hear it, but news on your mother isn’t good. They don’t expect her to hang on for more than a week or two at best. If you want to see her, you’d better do it now. I’ll go with you if you want. Call me. Love you, kid. – A

Second verse, same as the first. I deleted it as fast as possible. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say. There was another text, from Tom, followed by a picture of me sleeping.

It’s 6 AM. You’re asleep beside me, love of my life. I always want to wake up to this. It feels like…home. – Love, T

After I was able to breathe again, I reached out a hand to shake him awake, but then I caught sight of the angle of the sun on his face. It had cast half of it in brilliant light while leaving the remainder in shadow, and if there ever was a perfect photo op, this had to be it. His arm rested on his forehead, hand open and fingers gently curling. I turned off the shutter noise effect and took a series of shots. They were all gorgeous, and I chose the one in which his eyelashes were most prominently defined. I sent it to him, then texted.

Now it’s 11 AM. You win the ‘who looks better asleep’ competition, hands down. I always want to wake up to this too. Home, indeed. – Love, M

My intention had been to shower, have a snack and get to work, but I found myself held hostage by Tom’s presence. He was sleeping peacefully, the bed sheet down around his waist, with one leg outside it as well. I put my phone back on the end table and reclined on my side next to him, up on one elbow with my chin in my hand, viewing him with different eyes in light of all that had transpired last night.

In the ridiculously short span of seven days, he already knew me a thousand times better than anyone else I’d allowed in my life. His ability to perceive the underlying current of pain that coursed through me to no end just from listening to my voice was both unnerving and comforting at the same time. The display of protectiveness I’d witnessed when he’d expressed his desire to ‘decimate’ the source of said pain, that he was actually angry at the prospect of someone or something hurting me…with that, he had, consciously or not, offered me shelter, made me feel safe, and it was, in the end, the reason why I’d given in and let go. Any fear, any trepidation I’d harbored regarding what we felt for each other had vanished, and I couldn’t help but think that he was acutely aware that I’d needed what we’d shared just as much as he had. An emotional connection, a spiritual connection. Last night, for better or for worse, he’d become a part of me, revealing himself to be the other half of my soul, missing since I’d taken my very first breath in this world.

I shook my head as I ran my finger lightly across the bottom of his jaw, down his neck, over his chest and all the way to his belly button, pausing as he stirred and reached for me, pulling me half on top of him, pressing my head to his chest. I smiled against his skin, breathing him in as I descended back into a tranquil, dreamless sleep.

****************************************  
It was after four PM by the time any of us got up and moving that Sunday, and after a meal of steak and eggs I fulfilled my promise to help Luke with all the prospective clients cluttering up his inbox and making him a nervous wreck. I started with a quick redesign of the Prosper site and adding a web-based client intake form, which would help eliminate the need to reply to queries with additional queries and so on into perpetuity. I created a fillable PDF as well, and we spent the good part of an hour sending it to those who’d already been in touch. The form asked not only for client info, but posed several questions I’d drafted over the years that would make it much simpler to know who to put in the ‘thanks but no thanks’ pile. Luke was hesitant about turning anyone away, so I told him a few horror stories in an effort to alter his perspective. Mission accomplished. At eleven PM I remembered that I hadn’t booked my flight to San Diego, and was pleasantly surprised that a seat was available on Tom and Luke’s plane. Granted, they were in first class and I’d be in coach, but it alleviated my having to head out a day ahead or be a few hours late, for which I was grateful. They both offered to swap with me when I mentioned it in the morning, but I graciously declined as I was, for the moment, the least recognizable. Two rooms had been reserved at the Marriott Marquis San Diego Marina for Saturday and Sunday night months ago, so nothing needed doing on that front. I even remembered to book tickets for our flight from San Diego to New York on the morning of the 13th as well, silently crowning myself Responsibility Champion for Getting Shit Done and thanking Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half for providing me with so many laughs.

All of the stuff I’d ordered arrived on Monday, and Tom helped me open the numerous boxes, both of us behaving very much like a small children on Christmas morning. He begged me to try on the Diva Darcy Doc Martens, but I blatantly refused and told him he had to wait until Comic-Con no matter how much he pouted. We drove Simon and Luke over the edge testing out the new equipment, Tom pretending to be a pretentious avant-garde set photographer and me being the unbearably demanding director of a documentary chronicling the adventures of an outcast chef drinking himself to death in paradise while his fiancé tries to save him from himself. We swapped roles periodically so I’d be proficient with both devices, but our fun came to an abrupt end when the boys escaped under the guise of picking up more food at the market.

The remainder of our week on the island was primarily spent working as I scrambled to meet my self-imposed deadline of Tom’s website being ready for launch before we left for Comic-Con on the 11th. He sat with me wherever I set up camp, conducting research for his role in Skull Island and taking care of odds and ends, which with Tom often turned into hours long detours from his original path. I’d divided up all the video and still materials I’d amassed so far into Film, Theater, Television, Photoshoots, Red Carpet, Charity Events, and Public Appearances categories. Other sections included Biography, Filmography, Upcoming Appearances, Current Projects, Future Projects, Penned by Tom and Tom’s Library. When he questioned the latter two, I put him to work finding every scrap of writing he’d done that was already posted online and listing topics, titles and urls for me. When that was completed, he could begin working on a list of his 100 favorite books for the Tom’s Library page, and each time he read something new or from his existing collection he’d do a either a short write up or a video to discuss what he’d enjoyed about it. His comment that he had no idea making a website could actually be interesting was rewarded with a pinch to the back of his arm.

By Friday morning I was in the final stages of testing, and of course there were issues, because…there always are. I’d thought I could get away with just using my design program, but something was out of whack and required a more hands on approach that involved extensive coding. I’d left Tom sitting on the lanai, pouring over his options for the first book write up, and shut myself in the bedroom with The Prodigy cranking on Spotify. I wasn’t sure when he’d come in, only noticing that I had company when I thought I had the problem solved, uploaded the files, and pulled up the DNS and saw that nothing had changed.

“FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCK!”

I felt hands on my shoulders. “Interesting that The Prodigy has the same effect on you…they’re my go to when I want to get into Loki’s headspace.”

I glared at him, then shook my head. “Sorry. Yeah. Angry music helps me focus when I’m trying to code. And I say trying because that must be what I’m doing since I haven’t had any fucking success.” I sent my FTP program down to the taskbar and gave my code the finger, then started editing furiously.

He leaned in for a closer look at my screen, eyes moving back and forth from there to my fingers as they flew, pummeling the keyboard. “Are you…what is…how do you do that?”

One hand flew up to shush him. “Can’t talk and do this. Give me ten minutes.”

He went and sat on the bed, and I saved, uploaded and let out a war whoop with my fists in the air when everything displayed as it should.

“Yeah, that’s right…now you’re my bitch, JavaScript.”

Tom took that as being granted permission to speak again, and he came over to sit in the dining room chair we’d brought into the bedroom so we could work together. “What was that? Some sort of code? I have to be honest…after watching you this week I have a much deeper appreciation for the behind the scenes work that goes into websites. I never really thought about it previously. It’s so intricate, so complex…like a thesis paper with graphical representations and a bit of math, perhaps? Though that may be oversimplifying…”

I tilted my head. “No, that’s exactly what it is. To me, anyway. And yes, that was code.”

He walked his fingers up my thigh. “Watching you was…exhilarating.” I rolled my eyes and he laughed. “So, where did you learn how to do that? University?”

I shrugged. “Sort of. I spent some time at the New York Institute of Technology, Manhattan Campus, in the School of Engineering and Computer Science. Full scholarship. Never finished, though…everything useful I’ve ever learned I figured out on my own.”

“NYIT, full scholarship, in that field?” His mouth dropped open.

I closed it with my hand. “Yes. Why is that surprising?”

He shook his head. “It’s not, really…it’s just relatively far removed from what you wound up doing for a living, and you’re so creative and artistic and I would have never…good lord, woman, are there no limits to what you’re capable of?”

I smirked. “Of course there are limits. It’s a short list that includes things like being patient, being tolerant of people less intelligent than I am, being less sarcastic, ceasing to swear like a sailor…” He tapped his foot and stared at me. I rolled my eyes again. “Fine, then. I’ll admit that I tend to be able to accomplish whatever I set out to do, so long as I’m sufficiently motivated. And if I had to hazard a guess, Mr. Double Firsts from Cambridge, you’re the same damn way so you should, you know, shut the fuck up.”

He held up a hand, pointed it at his chest and shook his head again. “Me? No. There are plenty of things I’m not capable of doing no matter how much effort I put forth.”

“Oh, please. Don’t be so modest, Thomas. You’re a fucking genius, which is part of why women all over the planet want to throw their panties at you. What’s your IQ? Have you ever been tested?”

He looked down, face reddened, but didn’t answer.

I sighed. “Well, I was. And being modest is also on that short list of things I can’t seem to get the hang of. Mine’s 158.”

A Lokiesque smile spread across his face as he looked up at me, whispering. “161.”

I punched him in the shoulder. “So I’m right, you are a fucking genius. And, technically, more of a genius than I am. I need to remedy that. Let me introduce you to Tumblr…staring at pictures of, erm, you is guaranteed to reduce anyone’s ability to think coherently, and it should shave off at least five IQ points and put me back on top. Which is where I prefer to be.”

He chuckled. “It is, is it? I’m afraid I hadn’t noticed.”

When I logged into the account I’d created his face turned an even darker shade of red and I thought his head might explode. And then he started clearing his throat repeatedly. And then he started touching himself…his neck, his chest, his thighs. Which of course did me no favors. 

He covered his eyes with his hands. “Maude, I’m not certain that I can do this.”

I felt myself shift into manager mode, which until that moment I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull off since we’d gotten so close. “Thomas. This is where the beating heart of your fan base resides. You can’t be everywhere else online and not have a presence here. What is it that’s holding you back?”

He peeked at me through his fingers. “I’ve looked before. Once. Maybe more than once. Did you know there are actually blogs dedicated to the way my cock looks in dress pants?”

I snorted. “Well, they’re all correct, then. You DO look. Ah, the legend of the Hiddlesconda. Plenty of truth in that, I’m happy to say.” He groaned.

I pulled his hands away from his eyes. “Listen. I’m sure it feels really, really strange to know that people are objectifying you, in a way, but…”

“What would your emotional response be to a blog dedicated to the way your breasts look in various shirts? Or your buttocks in pants?”

I raised my left eyebrow, lips pressed together. “Truthfully? I’d think it was hilarious. And maybe just a little bit awesome. I know, I’m supposed to be all ‘oh, no, don’t objectify me, I’m a person’ but we’re human. This is what we do. We’re programmed to evaluate everyone we encounter as a potential sexual partner at a very basic, biological level. And not to toot my own horn, okay fine, toot toot toot, but I’ve got a pretty nice rack. Gaze upon it with awe, fellow earthlings. Now if they were stolen nudes or something, then I’d be pissed. But just everyday pictures? People take pleasure in looking at you, Thomas. That’s not a bad thing, by any means. You’re hot. Get over it.”

He let his chin fall to his chest and shook his head but said not a word.

“So, we’ve established that you’ve done the Tumblr thing. Obviously, it’s part of my job so I have as well. What else have you seen, specifically, that concerns you?”

He shrugged. “I have a hard time understanding why anyone would spend their time creating and curating a blog about me. Is that really something I should be encouraging?”

“Yes. Would you like me to tell you why? Don’t answer. Rhetorical question. You may think it’s a waste of time…”

He held up a finger. “That’s not what I said.”

I rolled my eyes for the third time. “No matter the phrasing. It’s what you meant. And that’s fine, because you’d rather do other things and have your own hobbies. For some of your fans, this is their hobby. And you should encourage it because of all the positive aspects of what they do. For you. They promote your work. They support your charities. They vote for you to ensure you win awards they think you deserve. They make you known. There are benefits for them, as well. A return on investment, so to speak. Users find new friends all over the world because they have enjoying you and your work in common. People who would have never ‘met’ are able to connect. They find an output for their creativity and enhance their skills by making fan art and writing fan-fiction…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’d forgotten all about the fan-fiction.”

I took a deep breath. “Thomas, when you were a kid, you loved Indiana Jones. Right?”

“Yes. And many other things as well.”

“Okay. Did you ever imagine yourself either as him in scenarios outside the film’s context or as being his companion within or outside the films? Create your own scenes? An alternate universe, so to speak?”

“Of course. All of that, actually.”

“That’s fan-fiction. You just let it bang around in your head as opposed to putting it into words.” I paused, giving it time to sink in.

His brow furrowed. “Well, that’s a mind blower right there.”

“What’s really mind blowing is the quality of some of the work that’s out there. I’ve only read a few so far, but man, it’s amazing. Better than a lot of published stuff I’ve read. It’s not about you, the real you, it’s about someone’s idea of you. And what that ‘not you’ does with whomever. Or whatever, as the case may be. Fan-fiction opens new channels for people who haven’t written in years, or are just starting out, and they get instant readership and feedback on Tumblr. Fostering this kind of…”

He smiled softly and put his hand on my knee. “You can stop. I get it. What do you need me to do?’

“We’re going to focus on the positive. Creativity and generosity. Charity. Make it about the work. This is the place to post things you want to get the most attention, to go viral. If you ask these people for something, they’ll give it times a hundred. At least once a week I want you to find a piece of fan art that you like, a meme, a drawing, that sort of thing and post it with a link back to the creator.”

“Downey does that on Facebook.”

“And now you know where he got the idea. We’ll keep the account locked down so no one can contact you, with the exception of once a week for ten minutes at a completely random time during which fan questions will be accepted. I’ll review them, pick one and you’ll answer it via video, mentioning the name of the fan and their Tumblr url, if applicable.”

He raised both brows and frowned slightly. “I don’t think I’ll ever completely understand why someone could be so interested in…well, me.”

I kissed his cheek. “I could explain it, but…ain’t nobody got time fo dat. Because now we need to shoot the ‘welcome to my new website’ video so I can make the site live tonight. Put on something spectacular, won’t you?”

“How does a white T-shirt sound?”

“Wow, Thomas…you really DO get it, don’t you?”

He licked his lips slowly, obscenely, then pulled the tank top he was wearing over his head and tweaked his own nipples. “Yes. I’m hot. Get over it.”

I put my head in my hands. “Jesus Christ, what fresh fuckery is this that I have wrought?”

****************************************

The site launched at 5:30 PM. Tom tweeted an announcement, then created his first Tumblr text post accompanied by the photo of him sleeping I’d sent him earlier in the day.

Hello Hiddlestoners,

It’s my first time. I hope you’ll be gentle with me.

The photo below is only being posted here, for all of you. My sources tell me that a.) you’ll quite like it and b.) it will have more than 100,000 notes within the next twenty-four hours. We’ve bet on it, actually. If my source is correct, I have to buy dinner. Again. So, choose a side and do what you must. 

My thanks to you for being so supportive along the way, and my apologies for taking so long to join you.

XO - Tom

Simon made dinner, fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. It was the best fried chicken I’d ever eaten, and coming from a girl raised in the south, that’s one hell of a compliment. He and Luke headed out at seven to meet the couple they’d gotten friendly with last Saturday, once again at the Nawiliwili Tavern. Simon chased me around the house after I told him that I couldn’t believe he was THAT much of a slut for karaoke that he needed to do it again less than a week later. He caught me, knocked me down, sat on top of me and told me it was a miracle he’d lasted as long as he had while he tickled me.

They’d invited us along, but the idea of having the entire house to ourselves until the wee hours of the morning was just too good of an opportunity to pass up, even if it was our last full day together as a group on the island. I feigned exhaustion from all the work I’d done to get the site up and running over the past week, and they either bought into my bullshit hook line and sinker or just went with it…I didn’t care one way or another as long as they got their asses on the road pronto.

We gave them ten minutes, wanting to make sure they weren’t coming back for something they’d forgotten, then plopped on the couch to split a pint of Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk, listening to my iPod playlists via the home’s tiny but powerful Bose system. I had my legs up, the lower halves resting on his lap.

I shook my head as I shoveled another spoonful into my maw. “I can’t believe I’m sharing New York Super Fudge Chunk with someone.”

He titled his head, brows furrowed, and I realized he thought I’d meant I that hadn’t had someone to share it with previously, which was mostly true, and quite lame, but not at all my point.

“What I meant was that one simply DOES NOT SHARE New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream. Yet, here I am, allowing you to help yourself to it freely and not running and locking myself in the bathroom with it. I can’t be positive, but I’m leaning towards it being indicative of the fact that I actually like you.”

He grinned at me but remained silent.

“See, here’s the thing. I love you. That’s just a known, something I feel on a visceral level. But I also like you. Like, a lot. This is…”

He put his hand on my knee. “Completely different from anything you’ve ever experienced before?” 

“Bingo. It’s…so…so…help me out, wordsmith. I’m out of adjectives.”  
He leaned in to meet my gaze, staring intently. “Everything you’ve ever wanted but never knew you were missing?”

“Yeah. That. You?”

He rolled his eyes, mocking me. “I would have thought it to be obvious, but yes, my Maude. Me too.”

He’d taken the pint of ice cream from my hands, placed it unceremoniously on the floor and was sliding his hand up my thigh when ‘You Should Be Dancing’ came on. I jumped up and grabbed his hands, dragging him with me as I danced my way to the open area in front of the patio sliders.

“If someone can manage to stay still during this song, we will never be friends.”

He shimmed up behind me. “I’m in full agreement with that statement.”

Almost an hour and what seemed like a thousand songs later I thought I was going to have a heart attack, so we finished up with Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Cheek to Cheek’. Tom sang, and I joined in once I caught my breath. He kissed me as it ended, his lips warm and inviting.

He whispered in my ear. “So, what’s next for our ‘Home Alone’ party?”

I waved a hand to fan myself. “Something to cool me down, preferably. I’m fucking roasting from dancing.”

He bit his lip and waggled his eyebrows. “Perhaps I could interest the lady in some la nuit se baignaient nus?”

I whipped off my shirt and started to undo my bra. He gawked at me.

“You know what that means?”

I harrumphed. “Loosely translated, night swim naked, right?”

“Oh, so you speak French too…woman, I swear…I meant it to say nighttime skinny dipping, but…”

I held up my hand. “I don’t speak it, other than Café Du Monde, beignets, croissants or anything else I want from a menu, but I understand a good amount of it. New Orleans, remember?”

I flung my bra across the room, slipped off my shorts and panties and turned off the interior and exterior lights, leaving the underwater pool lighting on. Tom protested, saying he wanted to see me in all my glory, but when I reminded him about the close proximity of the neighbors to our left he relented.

The pool utilized a salt water system, and the water was crystal clear and perfect. And damn refreshing. I swam to the deep end, then back to the shallows and floated on my back. Tom dove under me, then tried to dive over me but wound up sinking us both instead. Thankfully I’d closed my eyes so my contacts remained in place. We played Marco Polo, which I managed to win more than a few times, then floated next to each other for a while, basking in the peaceful moonlight. He stood up suddenly, walked to the side of the pool, moved right, then left, stopped, then got out and ran into the house.

I shrugged and went back to floating, closing my eyes and listening to the waves as they crashed rhythmically on the rocks below. When I opened them, he was back, a lounge chair cushion in each hand. He set them both on the pool tiles above where he’d been standing prior to his abrupt exit.

He squatted next to them, tucking something underneath one, his cock jutting out, half hard. “Come out of there for a moment, would you, love?”

I swam to where I could stand, then walked up the steps to him.

He held his hand out toward the cushions. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thomas. Swimming.”

I got puppy dog eyes in reply.

“Fine.” I sat, cross legged. He rose and went back in the pool, walking until he was right in front of me and pulled my feet out from under my legs.

“It occurred to me as we were gazing up at the stars that I’ve yet to settle my debt with you. Lean back and skooch that glorious ass to the edge of the cushion, won’t you?”

I was there before he finished his sentence, leaning back on my elbows. “That’s something you’ll never need to ask twice.”

His shoulders were level with the tile decking, and he placed my feet on them as he buried his face in my pussy, inhaling my scent, groaning as he rubbed his lips against mine. He pulled back, gently opening me with his fingers, running them up and down my folds, spreading my wetness all around. His tongue followed, licking a stripe from bottom to top, then down again, delving further to swirl around my asshole. My hips bucked up as I exhaled sharply.

He looked up at me from between my legs. “Thought you’d like that. Mmm. Even more delectable than I anticipated.”

The rimming continued, working me into a frenzy, until he pulled my cheeks apart, spreading me wide as he began working the tip of his tongue inside.

I let myself fall back on the cushions, abandoning trying to hold myself up. “Holy. Fucking. Hell. That tongue is going to be the death of me, Thomas. And I can’t think of a better way to go.” 

That spurred him on, his thumbs on either side of my hole, stretching me further, wigging and thrusting his tongue until he was so far in that his mouth met my skin. He closed his lips around me and began sucking, rolling his tongue against the walls of my ass. I whined when the suction disappeared, then groaned when I felt his right index finger teasing my rim, his tongue still moving in me. Something moved under the cushion, and I heard a top flip open and looked down to see a bottle of lube in his left hand. I considered asking him where it had come from, but quickly determined that I already knew the answer and should cease thinking about it immediately so I could continue to enjoy myself. The lube had been underneath me and was almost warm when he squeezed it onto his finger, pressing it forward slowly as the tip of it entered me. His head pulled back, taking his tongue with it, much to my dismay.

I rose back up on my elbows so I could see him clearly. “I wasn’t done with that yet, Thomas. Put it back.”

He grinned and slid his finger inside me up to the first knuckle.

“Okay, maybe I was done. Please continue.”

He pushed in all the way, then pulled back out, meeting my gaze, trying to gauge my level of discomfort. “You’re all right?”

I flopped back down, shifted my hips and thrust towards him, my hole sucking his finger back in halfway. “I. Am. Mother. Fucking, Fantastic.”

His tongue resurfaced, licking at my clit furiously as he fucked my ass with his finger. My palms slapped the cushions in time with his thrusts and I could hear him squirting more lube on something. Another finger teased at my rim.

“Shall I add one more?”

“If you don’t I will never speak to you again.”

The second went in easily, and he returned his attention to my clit, alternately licking and sucking and biting as his fingers moved in and out, stroking my insides. I was right on the edge of coming when he deprived me of his mouth yet again so he could look up at me.

“THOMAS. YOU BASTARD.”

He laughed, but then his expression grew serious. “Can you take one more, do you think?”

I gave him a thumbs up. “If you use enough lube, I can probably take two more.”

The noise that came out of him as his eyes rolled back in his head made me pant. He added the third finger, gently sliding them in and out.

“You’re certain I’m not hurting you?”

“Nuh-uh. More.”

He ignored my request, thrusting harder and faster as he sucked my clit into his mouth and tongued it until I came, once again screaming his name.

The withdrawal of his fingers left me empty and gaping, and he swam back to the stairs and was by my side in seconds, cock dark and dripping in the moonlight. He held out his hand to help me up, and I rose slowly, his lips on mine, tongue thrusting desperately into my mouth before I knew what was happening. I wrapped my arms around his back, hands on his ass, pulling him to me, cock like iron against my stomach.

I pulled away to whisper his ear. “Does someone want to take my cherry tonight, Thomas?”

He whimpered against my neck, shivering, then leaned back and took my face in his hands. “Maude. My god. May I? Don’t feel pressured, please…I want you to be comfortable and ready so it’s not unpleasant so if you want to wait it’s fine…”

“In light of the fact that your cock is likely to be equally as huge at a later date as it is at this moment, I see no point in waiting. You?”

He bent over, grabbed the lube, put one hand behind my knees, swept me up into his arms and strode to the house.

“Dude, put me down. Are you insane?”

“Maude.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

He flicked the light switch as we entered the bedroom, then set me gently on the bed and closed the blinds. His pupils were blown wide as he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back on the bed.

“If you think it’ll be easier I don’t mind getting on my knees.”

He shook his head. “I need to see you.”

I opened my legs, and he grabbed two pillows and put them under my ass when I lifted my hips for him. He toyed with my clit, teasing, then slipped a single finger into my ass. Two more quickly followed, going in easily as I was still stretched open and well lubricated. He rotated them in circles, spread them apart, loosening me more. I watched him working intently, his tongue peeking out now and again from between his lips as his focus deepened.

He met my gaze as he removed his fingers and placed the head of his cock against my hole. I pushed against him, and he hissed as if he’d been singed. He covered himself in lube, then took my hand.

“I promise that I’ll do my very best to go as slowly as possible, but I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to help myself once I’m inside. If I’m hurting you, just say so and I’ll stop immediately. All right?”

I squeezed his hand and nodded. I’d never had any issues with fingers or average sized plugs, but I was reasonably sure his cock was an entirely different animal. He pressed forward, and I breathed deeply, concentrating on relaxing the ring of muscle that separated us. I felt his hands pulling at me, trying to open me even more, followed by a pressure and burning so intense it made my eyes water. I closed them. He hesitated.

“No, no, don’t stop. Keep going. I’m fine.”

Getting the head in was supposed to be the most painful part…and it certainly was, much worse than I’d imagined. I gritted my teeth and saw stars until I felt a pop and heard Tom gasp out a long, low moan. I opened my eyes to see his face and found him staring at me, his chest heaving.

I smiled. “I think you’re in.”

He nodded, breathless. “I am indeed.”

I remained completely still as he pushed forward an inch at a time, pausing in between to let me adjust, until I felt him flush against me.

He leaned down to kiss me and I winced. “God, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be. I’m okay.”

“Maude. This feels…I…so tight, burning hot…”

I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth, nipping at it. Our tongues danced around each other, and his hand dipped to my pussy to rub me. Once I began rolling my hips he started moving, pulling back the tiniest bit, then thrusting forward, continuing until he managed to work himself slowly out and in again with relative ease. His eyes met mine, asking for permission. I nodded and he began fucking me in earnest, his finger circling my clit. Any pain had been overwritten by pleasure, and I was entranced by the fact that his cock was buried in my ass, filling me in a way I could have never fully comprehended until it actually happened.

He was panting, mouth open. “Oh god oh Maude oh FUCK you feel so fucking GOOD.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Harder, Tom. Fuck my ass harder.”

He obliged, rubbing my clit faster. His thrusts grew erratic, cock twitching inside me as he chanted my name, then suddenly grew conscious of the fact that I had yet to orgasm.

“Maude, I can’t hold on. I’m sorry.”

As I felt him begin to spill over I came, my sphincter tightening around his cock like a vise, contracting and releasing over and over again. He screamed, loud and deep and low. I joined in, keening as he emptied himself into me.

He rested his full weight on me, pushing my hair back from my face and peppering it with kisses.

“Thank you, my love. You have no idea how much this means to me. Knowing that you’ve never shared it with anyone else, that I was the first to experience this particular pleasure with you…I…I…just, thank you.”

I kissed the tip of his nose. “You’re welcome. And thank you. That was fucking spectacular.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I managed to fit the Hiddlesconda in my ass. I feel like a climbed Mount Everest or something.”

He twitched inside me. “Careful, woman, or we’ll be at this all night.”

I laughed. “As much as I’d enjoy that, it might put me in the hospital. Do you have something to put under me when you pull out? I can try and hold it in but I have a feeling that’s not going to work out very well.”

He shook his head. “Forgot about that. Sorry. Looks like we’ll have to sacrifice the pillowcase. They’re washable, aren’t they?”

“Sure. The next guests will never know their face is where my ass was. Or what it left there.”

He chuckled as he pulled out. “You’re awful.”

“But entertaining.”

He kissed my forehead as he rose from the bed, placing his hands under my arms to help me up into a standing position. “Very entertaining.”

We showered together, soaping and washing each other, then rinsing off with the massage head. I yawned as I dried myself.

“What time is?”

Tom padded into the bedroom to see the clock on the nightstand. “Eleven thirty.”

“Man, we probably have two hours at least before they get back and I’m too tired to stay awake. Should we have tea?”

He shook his head. “Long day tomorrow, and the next even longer. Rest is necessary.”

I sighed as he jumped into bed.

He batted his eyelashes at me. “Don’t you want to snuggle with me?”

I sighed again as I turned off the light and climbed in next to him, lying on my side. “You’re such a little shit, Thomas.”

He rolled over to face my back, putting one arm around me and twining his legs with mine. “I know. Now go to sleep. I’m the big spoon. My word is law.”

I gave him the finger, and soon after relaxed into his warmth, eyes fluttering and finally closing as I drifted off, his resplendent smile the last thing on my mind.

****************************************  
We emerged from the bedroom at ten in the morning, leaving us only a few short hours to eat, pack, and drive to the airport. Our flight was scheduled to leave at two PM, arriving in San Diego at ten-thirty PM. I wasn’t terribly sore, but enough so that I had to sit down very, very slowly or I’d wince, or worse, groan. Tom was ridiculously apologetic, which was adorable, but I assured him it would have been worth it even if I wasn’t able to sit down at all for a week. I could hear that Luke and Simon were awake, but didn’t think they’d come out of their room yet, so I hastily picked up the clothes Tom and I had strewn about last night. Hopefully they hadn’t noticed. I also hoped that they hadn’t noticed that they were missing some lube, though I was sure they would at some point and that I’d never hear the end of it.

All our luggage was squeezed into the car since I’d be returning the Jeep on the way to the airport, and Simon would be driving the car out and then back to the house as he was remaining behind. Luke would join him back on the island on Monday, and Tom and I would head to New York. We were still set to all meet in London on the twentieth.

I took a few last shots of the ocean view, then stuffed the camera back into my carryon. I had Finders Keepers to read on the flight, and my iPod so I could tune out the cabin noise. Tom embraced me from behind.

“I never want to leave.”

I leaned back into him. “Me either. Fuck this work shit. Let’s be beach bums.”

“You have no idea how tempting that is.”

“Oh yeah I do.”

Part of me was anxious about how we’d function as a couple out in the ‘real world’, but I knew there was only one way to tell. Live it. I sighed as Luke locked the door behind us, and Tom and I were quiet on the fifteen mile drive, his hand resting on my knee the entire time. When we reach the rental dealer, I patted the Jeep’s hood and bid it adieu after Simon took a picture of Tom and I leaning on either side of it, thinking about how much my life had changed since the moment I signed the rental agreement. Insanity. We joined Luke and Simon in the car and two miles later, there we were.

Check in and security went quickly, and the boarding announcement soon followed. First class, first on. Tom kissed me and smoothed my hair, telling me he’d miss me terribly. I hugged him tightly, pinched his cheeks and sent him on his way. Simon embraced Luke, then let him go, watching him head down the hall with tears in his eyes. He stayed to keep me company while I waited for the coach boarding notice. He took my hands in his.

“Maude, I’m sure he’s told you a thousand times by now, but I have to tell you, too. Tom…that man…he loves you. The way I love Luke. I can see it in his face, hear it in his voice…the way he touches you…he loves you. And I’m sure you feel the same way. That being said, I suspect there’s a lot you haven’t had time to, or have been willing to tell him, and I know for a fact that there are a bunch of things he hasn’t told you. You should have those conversations soon, so all the bullshit both of you are carrying around doesn’t get in the way. More often than not, the things we don’t say wind up hurting us more than the things we do. Trust me. Luke and I…well…I waited so long that I nearly ruined everything. Don’t be me. And, I think you need to go first. If you open up to Tom, he’ll open up to you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood there, mouth agape.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say a thing. It was just a hunch, but I guess it was a good one. I’m irritatingly observant, like you. You talk about where you’re from and what you’ve done, but you never mention your family, or many people at all for that matter unless it’s a business associate, and it set off alarm bells in my head that were all like DING, DING, DING. I didn’t mean to interfere, but over the past week and a half you’ve totally grown on me like a fungus and I love you, too, and…you know. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, all that. Sharing my experience to prevent someone else from having to endure the same thing. Forgive me?”

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Nothing to forgive, Simon. Thank you. That’s actually exactly what I needed to hear. I’d been planning on talking to him once we’re in New York anyway, and this makes me certain it’s the right move. I love you too.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m totally disappointed that you didn’t immediately ask me what it was that I kept from Luke.”

I shrugged. “Between you and him, isn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes. “Please. I learned a valuable lesson…you need to be completely transparent with the people you let in your life so they understand why you do fucked up shit. And as my new best friend, you’ve become part of the ‘people I let in my life’ club. Plus, I don’t want you to hear it from anyone else and think I’m an asshole without getting all the facts.”

I poked his shoulder. “Fine. Spill it.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I was married before.”

“So?”

“To a woman.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Simon.”

“I am so not fucking with you. And, I have a thirteen-year-old son.”

I sat down in the nearest chair. “So you’re bisexual?”

He snorted and sat next to me. “Hell no. Though if I was, I totally would be trying to steal you from Tom.”

I raised my brows. “Is this the part where I mention the size of his cock to make you feel like you’re less of a man in an attempt to dissuade you from wanting to seduce me?”

He guffawed. “Oh honey, we all know about his super schlong. It’s kinda hard to miss. Plus I’ve seen him naked. Now I always knock on every door he may be behind. So, where were we? Right. I’m not bi. I’m gay. So very, very gay. But my parents weren’t exactly open to the idea, and our familial religious beliefs led them to believe that if they found me a nice woman and married me off I could be ‘cured’. I was so young, so unsure of myself, and so ashamed that I bought into it. Lisa is a lovely woman, and she gave me such an incredible gift in our son, but as soon he was born I knew I had to come clean because I didn’t want him to grow up and think I was nothing but a lying liar who lies. We divorced, she’s remarried, Roland is fabulous, all is well.”

“Roland? I love that name. Dark Tower?”

Simon squealed. “Yep. Wife had no idea. Thought it was noble and righteous. Snuck one past the goalie there.” He pulled out his phone. “Here he is.”

He looked just like Simon, but with black hair. “Wow, he’s gorgeous.”

Simon beamed. “He is, isn’t he? And my parents don’t hate me quite so much since I gave them an heir to the family name. Wow, I’m still bitter. It always surprises me.”

I put my arms around him and squeezed him to me. “That I understand all too well. And I’m so, so sorry you had to go through all that. I’m glad you found Luke, and your happiness.”

He wiped away a tear. “Thank you, honey. Luke is my happiness. I’m so blessed. Maude, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m right here, okay?”

I nodded. “You may be sorry you said that.”

He kissed my cheek. “Never. That’s what friends are for.”

I made a sour face. “I’m not really good at the whole friend thing.”

“Of course you are. You just never had the right friends before.”

“Fuck me, but I think I’m actually going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, you wicked bitch you.”

The boarding announcement blared out of the speakers, interrupting our laughter, and I released Simon and began my walk down the hall towards the plane, and my future.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Angst. It has arrived. Feels. Comic-Con, erotica (because they can, so they do), Maude gets some bad news. Feedback would be wonderful, as I’m hesitant as to how this will be received. But it’s their story, and this happened, so I wrote it. Hope you enjoy.

Midway through the flight, my phone alarm went off, reminding me to check Tom’s Tumblr. His post had 112,462 notes and it hadn’t even been a full 24 hours. I took a screenshot and sent it to him.

YOU LOSE AGAIN! I’m going to spend the rest of my time trapped here in coach deciding what restaurant you’re taking me to when we get to New York. No way I’m wasting a free meal on hotel food. :P – M

He replied back immediately.

Has it occurred to you yet that I’ve lost every single bet on purpose simply because I enjoy it when you win? – T

I laughed out loud, then apologized to my seat mates. Who were on either side of me, making for super fun times for the introvert. I silently berated myself for declining the offer of a spot in first class.

Well, NOW it has, you bastard. Joke’s on you, though, because I don’t care. I like winning too much to care. – M

I want to drag you into the restroom and join the mile high club. – T

THOMAS. BEHAVE. – M

So, you’ve really never had sex on a plane? – M

Not yet. You? – T

Hell no. The bathrooms are almost too small to pee in. I can’t even fathom fucking in one. Especially with a Frost Giant. – M

I swore I could hear him laughing up in first class, and the woman seated to my left tittered. I shot her my ‘are you fucking serious with this shit’ look and she cleared her throat, quickly turning her head, pretending to admire the thick cloud cover outside her window.

I just caught the woman next to me reading our texts over my shoulder. I kid you not. – M

Is she still looking? – T

No. She’s facing the window now. My fault for laughing out loud earlier, I guess. Time for iPod and book so I don’t get into trouble. – M

Happy reading. See you when we land. Love you. – T

It’s Stephen King. There will be no happy. :P Love you too. – M

Hearing the announcement that we were approaching San Diego and thus it was time to put all devices on airplane mode booming over the loudspeakers ripped me from the cocoon I’d created, so involved in Finders Keepers that I’d almost forgotten where I was. We disembarked, picked up our luggage, hopped into the waiting car and arrived at the Marriott Marquis San Diego Marina at eleven thirty PM, an hour later than we’d anticipated. It was less than a tenth of a mile from the Convention Center, and we were in adjoining Executive Suites in the South Tower. A far cry from the place I’d stayed in the last time I’d attended Comic-Con back in 2010, for sure. The view of San Diego Bay was amazing, and the separate living and sleeping areas created an apartment-like atmosphere. The couch in the living room faced the balcony, which was equipped with its own seating area, and I couldn’t help but wonder what stage of undress I’d wind up in on this one.

We stuffed all our luggage in the bedroom and ordered some sandwiches for delivery from the Exchange, Tom opting for tuna on whole wheat bread while I chose turkey on a roll with mayo, salt and pepper. It was tasty, but took forty-five minutes to arrive…apparently there were loads of hungry attendees either too tired or too drunk to leave their rooms and forage for food at such a late hour. My own level of exhaustion surprised me, and when Tom started dozing off sitting up as we watched Chopped on the Food Network we decided to call it a night.

I dragged myself out of bed at ten AM, leaving behind a sleeping Tom so I could go over some things with Luke. He’d decided to check out of the hotel and fly back to Kaua’i tonight instead of tomorrow, and there were a few closing items I’d agreed to take care of in his stead. The day would start with a meeting with Guillermo, Jessica and Mia, followed by the Crimson Peak panel in Hall H, interviews with IGN and a several other outlets, walking the press line, then the Nerdist podcast. Guillermo had invited us all to dinner, and Luke warned me that he’d probably want to go out after the Nerdist event with the cast to celebrate. I planned on excusing myself gracefully once the podcast was finished so I could get back to the room and send thank you messages to various press outlets and other entities that had participated in promoting Tom, and then I’d start combing through all the pictures and videos I’d be taking throughout the day and get them online as quickly as possible. Luke volunteered to take a jaunt to the convention center to pick up our passes and make sure that everything was in order, so I figured I’d sneak in a shower before Tom woke up.

I closed the bathroom door ever so quietly behind me, stripped off my T-shirt, shorts and underwear, and as soon as my hand touched the knob to turn on the water I heard him.

“Maude? Can you come in here please? I have something I need to show you.”

I opened the bathroom door and padded naked to the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and I gave it a gentle shove. “Thomas, you are aware that we have a schedule to…”

He was flat on his back, legs spread wide open, completely nude, with one hand behind his head and the other on his cock, stroking slowly but firmly. Down, up, twist. Down, up twist. A beatific grin lit his face but he remained silent.

I leaned against the door frame for support, legs gone weak at the sight of him. I raised an eyebrow. “So, what was it you needed to show me so urgently?”

His hand slid out from behind his head and pointed at his cock. “I’m afraid I’m experiencing a bit of a problem here, love. It was like this when I awakened, and it simply refuses to return to its normal state. I may have heard it mutter something about not relenting until it’s been given it a warm, soothing bath in your pussy juices.”

I strode to the bed as fast as I could without looking too desperate, exaggerating the roll of my hips for his benefit, then straddled him as I uncurled his fist from around his shaft and pinned his hands down by the wrists at either side of his head. I rose up on my knees, leaned forward to align myself, and sank down on his cock, taking him all in with one push.

He moaned, eyes closing for a moment until I clenched my muscles around him and they flew open again, darkened with desire. “Ohhhhh, there’s my girl. Ride me, Maude. Please. Ride me.”

I happily obliged, circling my hips as I moved up and down, faster and faster, leaning forward to position myself so his cock hit my G-spot and my clit ground into his pubic bone over and over. He tried to piston his hips but couldn’t get enough leverage, and I felt him bend his legs so he could find purchase with his feet. I let go of his wrists, and his hands quickly moved to my ass, pulling my cheeks apart, one finger gingerly moving over the pucker between them, teasing the rim. I hissed and put my hands on his chest, rose up higher on my knees and began slamming down on him fervently.

“Oh YEEEEESSSSS, that’s it, ride me, Maude. Harder. Fuck me harder.”

My walls began to quiver as he worked his index finger into my ass, and my head lolled backward, mouth dropping open as my orgasm neared.

He was panting, breathless. “Are you going to come on my cock, Maude? Squeeze me? Milk me dry?”

I leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Absofuckingloutely.” I thrust my tongue past his lips, finding his as I came, my pussy clamping down on him, and he began bucking up into me wildly, groaning into my mouth as he spilled inside me. I kept moving, grinding out another orgasm before he began to soften, then collapsed on his chest. He laughed.

“Someone’s greedy today.”

I snorted and pushed myself up on my elbows. “Damn right I am. You’re going to get all gussied up and I’m going to have to spend my entire day taking pictures of you, thoroughly frustrated that I can’t rip your pretty clothes off and fuck you in front of all of Hall H. Gotta get ‘em while I can, savvy?”

He removed his finger and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that…you aren’t still sore, are you?”

I shrugged. “A little. The flight was wicked uncomfortable at first, but I took some ibuprofen and lost myself in my book and pretty much forgot about it. It’s much better this morning, though.”

“Sorry. I should have asked first, but I woke up thinking about how it felt and…”

I held a finger to his lips. “Shush. No worries. If I didn’t like it, I would have said something.” Resting my weight on one knee, I moved the other behind me and climbed off of him. “Shower time. Hope you don’t mind me going first. I have to put on makeup and shit so I need more time to get ready. You just step out of there and look fucking gorgeous, so you’re last in line.”

His eyes roamed all over me. “Personally, I think you’re fine just like that. You should do today naked. Pretend it’s a cosplay of some sort.”

I put one hand on my hip. “Don’t tempt me, Thomas. Lord knows I’ve already done it enough accidentally.”

He chuckled. “I live for those moments.”

“Fuck you.”

“Please do. I’d love another round.”

I tried to think of something witty and came up empty, mouth opening and closing. I shook my head in defeat and headed back to the bathroom, strains of his hearty laughter still audible even with the door closed and the exhaust fan on.

****************************************  
Frowning at myself in the full-length bedroom mirror, I realized that the Loki T-shirt I’d wanted to wear just wasn’t…enough. Tom’s ensemble was neatly laid out on the bed, which he’d made while I was in the shower. Grey pants, grey linen jacket, white V-neck, black belt, black socks. And, of course, no underwear in sight.

I covered my face with my hands. “This is going to be a very, very long day.”

Tom called out from the shower. “Did you say something?”

“Just talking to myself. Can’t decide what shirt to wear.” I could see him in my mind’s eye, smirking as he opened his mouth to speak. “Shut it, Thomas.”

The light denim leggings were a perfect fit, but I wanted to be sure whatever top I chose covered my ass. One of the new ones I’d bought was black with grey accents, so it wouldn’t clash with what he was wearing, and it was more professional than the T-shirt but still funky enough to wear with my Diva Darcies. It had a built in undershirt, a zipper on a grey stripe background that ran diagonally across the front, black sleeves, and a black body with grey accents under the arms that created the illusion of an hourglass shape. My favorite part was the asymmetrical cowl/scarf, patterned grey and black to match the under arm accents. I slipped it over my head, then sat on the other side of the bed to put on my shoes. When I stood, I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they were, even with three inch stacked heels. As I turned from side to side, admiring how toned they made my calves look, Tom wandered back into the bedroom, drying himself with a towel as he walked, stopping dead when he noticed my shoes.

“Promise me that you’ll wear those when I fuck you later. I cannot wait to feel the heels of those digging into my ass.”

I rolled my eyes as he came closer and kissed my cheek. “You look beautiful, my love.”

“Thanks. It’s been a ridiculously long time since I’ve worn any type of heel. Logic and reason tells me to wear flats, but these are just too fucking cool. If I trip and fall and kill myself, so be it. Totally worth it.”

As he pulled his pants on, I returned to the bathroom to do my hair and try my hand at makeup. My hair wasn’t blow dryer friendly, and it would never dry on its own before we left, so I opted for a loose braid. I hadn’t thought about it, but it was probably best to put it back anyway so I didn’t wind up with a shitload of photos ruined by errant strands of my majestic tresses.

Chuckling to myself, I opened my cosmetic bag and dumped it unceremoniously on the counter. Foundation? No thanks. Eyeshadow? Sure. The grey tones of one multi-pack coordinated perfectly with my shirt. Eyeliner? Scary, but I managed to apply it to my lower lids without looking like an extra from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Mascara? Easy. Or I thought it would be. I’d forgotten what happens when you accidentally touch the brush to your contact. I managed to get it out of my eye, clean it off and reinsert it without fucking up the work I’d already done too badly. Last thing…lipstick. I hated lipstick. It tasted horrible, and faded so quickly. No matter what I tried, I always came out looking like either a tart or a zombie. I took a deep breath and removed the cap from a golden oldie, Chanel’s Vamp, did my best to color within the lines, then examined the results of my experiment in the mirror.

I tilted my head back and forth. “Hmm, not bad, Maude. Not bad at all. You look…reasonably feminine.”

Tom was waiting for me in the living room area, looking down at the phone in his hand. He raised his head when he heard me walk in, and his brows rose in unison when he saw my face.

“Wow. Look at you.”

I grinned. “I clean up pretty good, right?”

He sang his reply, the first six lines to Benny Banassi’s ‘Cinema’.

“I could watch you for a lifetime  
You’re my favourite movie  
A thousand endings  
You mean everything to me  
I never know what’s coming  
Forever fascinated”

I tried to ignore the flush that spread upward from my chest to my hairline and attempted to change the subject. “Oh yeah. I am SO keeping these shoes on for you.”

He whispered in my ear as he passed me his phone. “That’s the exact same way you flush when you come, Maude.”

I shivered and glanced at his screen. He’d tweeted a selfie taken on the balcony, overlooking the bay.

Good morning, San Diego Comic-Con. Crimson Peak panel. Hope to see you there. 2:30. Hall H, my favorite. #fondmemories, #youweremadetoberuled

“Thomas, I’m impressed. Nicely done, you.”

He nuzzled my neck, gently nipping until we were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Luke, luggage in tow. He passed me a sheaf of papers stuffed in a folder.

“Here’s all the stuff we’ll need. Passes, registrations, everything. I’m all checked out. Can I have one of your extra keycards so I can come back and get all this when I’m ready to leave?”

I fished mine out of my bag as I wrangled the strap over my head so it rested across my body. The camera and HD video recorder both fit inside it as long as I left my laptop behind, which made my life significantly simpler. Baggallini bags…they’re the fucking best.

He clapped his hands. “Let’s get moving, people. Chop chop. The sooner this is done the sooner I’m back at the beach house.”

I elbowed him. “Selfish, much?”

He nodded as we entered the elevator that would take us to the floor Guillermo’s room was located on. “As often as possible.”

The room door was propped open, and Guillermo, dressed all in black, threw his hands up in the air when he saw Tom walk in.

“There he is! My Hiddle Dee DEEEEEE!” Tom wrapped his arms around him and patted him on the back.

“Great to see you, man. How are you?”

He was beaming, and his accent was perfection. “So fucking good, Tommy. So fucking good.” He shook Luke’s hand. “And how is Mr. Windsor today?”

Luke smiled. “I’m well, Mr. Del Toro.”

Guillermo’s eyes widened when he saw me and a huge smile spread across his face. “And this ethereal vision that has appeared before me must be Miss Maude, yes?”

Tom put his arm around me, and I glanced at him quickly, left eyebrow raised. He laughed. “Guillermo del Toro, Maude Gallagher. And vice versa.”

I put out my hand and got pulled into a huge Mexican bear hug instead. “I am so happy to know you, Miss Maude.” He turned to Tom. “She is even more beautiful than you described. Come in, my dear. Meet everyone.”

Jessica and Mia were lovely, and I managed to sucker everyone into a group shot on Guillermo’s balcony. He kept telling me I’d better be quick because fat men and balconies often equaled tragedy. There were sandwiches, beverages, pastries, cheese, wine, beer and my personal favorite, mini cheesecake bites. When it was time to go I considered dumping the rest of the tray into my bag, but in the end I grabbed only a handful. They were long gone before the elevator reached the lobby.

After leaving the hotel, the rest of the day was nothing but a blur of people and flashbulbs and yelling and cosplay and nerds…by far the most fun I’d ever had at ‘work’. I must admit that I pinched myself a few times because it just didn’t seem real. The last time I’d been to Comic-Con, I only walked the show and didn’t attend any panels or events. This time it was all centered around Crimson Peak, but being out amongst the fans as I took hundreds of photos and videos by the dozen was exhilarating, their energy inspiring me to find more creative angles, to get in just a little bit closer, to capture what they had come to see in a new way, then pass it along for them to enjoy and, hopefully, treasure.

Luke asked me to walk the press line with him after we did interviews with all the attending media outlets, and I tried to fade into the background as much as possible, shooting a bit of footage from Tom’s perspective while observing the way Luke timed each stop to keep everything flowing. He was like an artist, his medium minutes and seconds. Tom wanted to answer every question thoroughly, carefully choosing his words to paint everything in a positive light, always explaining, supporting and defending his character’s choices. He even responded to asinine questions with a respect they didn’t deserve, often tossing in a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor to shift the topic in a different direction. I found myself standing like a statue many times along the way, in awe of his knowledge, his intelligence, and his eloquence. Listening to him speak about things that held great passion for him seemed to cause some sort of sonic-induced paralysis not only in me, but in everyone within range of his voice. Except for Luke, who, thankfully, appeared to be completely immune as he frequently stepped in to tell Tom to wind things up and move along.

We finished our stint and had migrated to the open space at the end of the line to wait for Guillermo when I heard someone calling out my last name.

“Gallagher! Hey, Gallagher!”

I knew who it was without having to look. There was only one person who called me that, other than my high school gym teacher. Norman. The man I’d once fucked so hard and long he’d thought he was having a heart attack. My number three.

My head swiveled around to see him nearly jogging towards me, dressed in a multi-hued light blue denim shirt, dark denim pants and black hiking boots. He was grinning, and I mentally prepared myself for the hug I’d soon be receiving as I silently begged the universe to give the man the good sense to not lick my cheek. It was kind of his…thing.

Thankfully, he did neither, stopping right in front of Tom and me as we both turned around at the same time. No one spoke for several moments, the silence deafening, and Tom took my hand in his. I figured it was my duty to do the whole introduction routine, though I was pretty sure they had some idea of who the other was.

“Tom Hiddleston, Norman Reedus. Norman, Tom.”

Norman extended his right hand, which Tom accepted and shook vigorously. “Really nice to meet you. Huge fan of what you’ve done with Loki, man. Incredible stuff. I saw a screener of Crimson Peak a while back while we were filming season six of the Walking Dead…Guillermo sent it to help us de-stress. He’s fucking hilarious, right? It was beautiful, and creepy as hell. You want to hate him, but Thomas Sharpe comes off as such a tortured soul who gets forced into doing some awful shit because he wants to love and be loved that you can’t help but empathize AND sympathize with him…really great work. Totally.”

Tom let go of my hand so he could place it on top of the other that Norman was still shaking. “Wow, thanks so much for that. I’m very glad you enjoyed it. I’m ashamed to admit that although I’ve tried on multiple occasions, I’ve been unable to watch an entire episode the Walking Dead because it scares the living shit out of me. I have seen plenty of clips, though, and Daryl is amazing. Even more so now that I’ve met you and heard your actual speaking voice.”

Norman smiled. “Yeah, our dialect coach is top-notch. Same one you guys used on I Saw the Light, right?”

Tom nodded and slipped into his drawl. “That’s right, y’all.”

Norman laughed and turned to me. “So how’s it goin’, Gallagher? Can I get a hug?”

I raised my eyes skyward and shrugged. “I suppose.”

He leaned in to embrace me lightly, and my heels made us nearly the same height. He pulled back, hands still on my arms as he looked down at my shoes. “Ah ha, that’s why we’re at eye level. Very cool shoes, by the way. Pretty badass.”

I smiled. “Well, you know…lots of skulls to crack in my new line of work. Have to be prepared.”

He let go of me and laughed. “I saw on Twitter that you ditched your company to go work for someone else. I’m guessing you’re really digging it, then?”

“I am.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Things are going well for you, too, I hope?”

“Totally. Season six is going to break some serious records, and I’m in talks for doing another Boondock Saints. Got great fans, get to travel all over the world…it’s all such an amazing gift, you know?”

Tom had taken my hand again, and I gave it a gentle squeeze. “Absofuckingloutely.”

We all laughed, and Andrew Lincoln called out from across the room. “Norman, you arsehole, get the fuck back here so we can go to dinner already!”

Norman rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s my cue.” He hugged me again, a little tighter this time. “You look great, Gallagher. Nice to see you again. Be happy.”

Then it was Tom’s turn. “Awesome meeting you, Tom. Can’t wait to see you in Skull Island…I’ve loved King Kong since I was a little kid.”

Tom patted him on the back before letting him go. “Great to meet you too. Best of luck with the new season. I hope Daryl makes it through.”

Norman grinned. “Thanks, man. He does. Maybe. Or maybe not. Only time will tell. You guys take care.”

I looked up at Tom as Norman walked away. He was staring at him, then turned to me. “Number three?”

I nodded. “We met at a New York Knicks game in late 2009.” Tom raised a brow. “Yeah. I hate basketball. A client dragged me. I was next to Norman, and I think he could tell I felt like I was in Guantanamo because at halftime he asked me if I wanted to get the fuck out of there and have some coffee. I was here at Comic-Con with him in 2010. We dated for a little less than a year altogether, I think.”

He stared at me, expressionless. “Did you love him?”

I was completely taken aback by his question, which caused me to hesitate in answering. I shook my head vehemently. “No. I liked him…very much, actually. But I never loved him.”

We were interrupted by Guillermo. “That took entirely too long, my friends. It’s seven-thirty already, and I’m fucking starving to death. The car should be here soon, I just called them. Hey, was that Norman Reedus I saw you talking to? I love Daryl. He’s used to be my favorite character on the show, but now he’s my second favorite. Carol won me over last season when she threatened to tie the little boy to a tree and let the zombies eat him alive.” He chuckled as we walked toward the doors, and so did I.

Tom shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone can watch that show. It’s so…brutal.” He shuddered. “I think I’ll stick with the Jungle Book, thanks.”

Guillermo cackled. “Maybe I should do an updated version of that, what do you think, Tommy? With some gothic twists and turns?”

Tom feigned a look of abject horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Guillermo patted his shoulder. “If you’re a good boy I’ll reconsider. There’s the car, and I see Jessica and Mia out there with Luke already. Let us go eat, drink and be merry at Fleming’s!”

Dinner was pleasant, and I was probably imagining it, but I couldn’t help but think that Tom seemed distant, despite the fact that his hand was either on my thigh or entwined with mine throughout the entire meal. I felt incredibly awkward about running into Norman and wished I’d never mentioned a blessed thing about how many sexual partners I’d had, nor gone into such detail about him in particular. If I’d thought about it, I might have expected to see him here, but in truth he didn’t cross my mind very often. 

By the time we finished it was ten PM. Luke said his goodbyes and headed for the airport, reminding me to send out the thank you emails as soon as I got back to the hotel room, and we scrambled to make it to the Balboa Theater in time for the Nerdist podcast at ten-thirty. I got some good pictures, and Chris promised to get me a link to the video and audio as soon as they were available. By then it was eleven-thirty, and Guillermo had decided on the ALTITUDE Sky Lounge for nightcaps. I begged off, detailing all the tasks I needed to complete prior to retiring for the night. He hugged me and said he hoped he’d see me soon, as did Jessica and Mia. Tom walked me out to make sure I got into my cab safely.

He pulled me to his chest and buried his face in my hair. “Are you certain I can’t persuade you to come out with us?”

I sighed and shook my head, leaning back to look up at him. “Sorry. Too much to do.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“Afraid not. I promised Luke I’d get it done tonight.” I put my hand on his face. “But hey, at least one of us gets to have some fun. I‘ll wait up for you …and I’ll leave the shoes on.”

Something flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, then disappeared. His expression had gone blank again as he leaned in to kiss me. His tongue traced my lips, then thrust inside. I closed my mouth around it, sucking, and he moaned before backing away and opening the cab door. “Please do. I should be back by one-thirty. I love you.”

I got in and buckled up. “I love you too, Thomas. I’ll turn my phone back on. Call me if you need me.”

He smiled. “Will do.”

I waved as the cab pulled away from the curb, and he raised his hand back, then turned to walk into the theater, head down and shoulders hunched.

****************************************  
As soon as the room door closed behind me, I grabbed my laptop, flopped down on the couch and sent out thank you after thank you to anyone and everyone who had interviewed Tom today. Luke hadn’t mentioned it, but I also requested notification when photos of videos were made available and promised full credit and a link when I posted them on. Some actually got back to me immediately, and I added them as they came in. A link back from Tom’s site had the potential to garner a good amount of traffic, and attention. I’d just refreshed my email when I remembered I had yet to turn on my phone. I had eight messages, the first one from nine-thirty PM and the last at eleven fifty-five PM, all from a number with 504 area code. New Orleans.

“Fuck.”

I Googled the number, not quite ready to believe what most likely awaited me within the voicemails, and felt every muscle in my body tense when the results came up. Passages Hospice & Sanctuary. I stared into space for a few minutes, then started with the first message. It was a woman, with a very thick accent.

“Miss Gallagher, this is Veronica from Passages Hospice. It’s urgent that I speak with you this evening. Please call…”

They were all the same, though the last one was from a woman named Angelica, advising me that I could call at any time no matter how late the hour. It was eleven minutes after midnight. I dialed, and someone picked up after three rings.

“Thank you for calling Passages Hospice. How may I direct your call?”

“This is Maude Gallagher. May I speak to Angelica, please?”

“One moment please, honey. I’ll transfer you.”

I held the line, counting off thirty-seven seconds, and then heard someone pick up.

“Miss Gallagher?”

“That’s me.”

“My name is Angelica Fiore, and I’m the Operations Director here at Passages. You’re Mary Bonaventura’s daughter, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Miss Gallagher, I’m afraid I’m the bearer of sad news. Your Momma passed away at around nine this past evening.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know. You have a good night.” My finger hovered over the end call button.

“Wait, Miss Gallagher, there are some things I need to discuss with you…”

I cut her off. “What could you possibly need to discuss with me? I haven’t had any contact with Mrs. Bonaventura at all in the past seventeen years. May I suggest that you get in touch with her husband?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for more than a minute. I’m sure I sounded like a hateful, cold hearted cunt…well, maybe that’s what I was. Because it’s who I’d had to become in order to survive her.

“My apologies, Miss Gallagher. Ms. Bonaventura and her husband divorced in 2007. You are the only remaining next of kin.”

I could feel my hands starting to shake, and I took two deep breaths but was still unable to speak.

“Miss Gallagher? Are you still there?”

“Yes, unfortunately. I’d like to know how you obtained my phone number, please.”

“Your mother had a visitor on Wednesday, a friend of the family. Mrs. Rice. You know, the author? She was in a coma by then, and when we told Mrs. Rice we had no one on file she…”

The anger surged inside of me. Fucking Anne sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. “Right. Anne. I’ll address the matter with her at a later date. In the interim, what is it, exactly, that we need to discuss?”

“Well, I hate to bring it up so quickly after just notifying you of her passing, but we need the next of kin to come in and positively identify the body before we can release it to the funeral home. She’s chosen Estelle J Wilson over on Daneell Street, and I can give you their information, but you really should meet with her attorney before doing anything else. It’s Attorney Stevens from the Dooley Law Office. He’s on Canal Street, but he’ll meet after hours if you call him…”

I’d got up off the couch and began to pace around the room. “I’m sorry, I mustn’t be understanding you correctly, because it sounds very much like I’m expected to come down there IN PERSON and take responsibility for all of this.”

Silence on the other end yet again, and when Angelica finally spoke, her was tone much colder, her accent more pronounced. “No, Miss Gallagher, you’re understanding me just fine. As next of kin, you need to turn up at our facility in person to formally identify your mother’s body within 24 hours from the time of death. You’ll also need to arrange to have it transported from our location. Where it ends up is none of my business. I just thought you’d like to comply with her wishes.”

My pacing continued, accompanied by some serious teeth grinding. “What happens if the body is not identified?”

I heard her gasp, and I imagined if she was wearing pearls that they were being clutched. “The county or state would step in at some point and take care of the remains and bill you to recoup their cost.”

My anger began to boil over, and I breathed deeply again and counted to ten to try and get my shit together and be human about this, even though it was an undeserved courtesy as far as I was concerned. I was fortunate that I had the means to take care of everything if necessary, and I tried to tell myself that if it was a complete stranger with no family that I found lying dead in the road I’d do the right thing then, so, why not for my mother, too?

“Ms. Fiore, I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I am deeply concerned that I won’t be able to make it within the specified window. I’m in San Diego, and it’s Comic-Con weekend, which means getting a flight out so soon may be next to impossible.”

“I’m afraid if you aren’t here in time, we’ll need to call in the county coroner, who will move the body to the city morgue. You can still identify it there, but it may take several days for all the paperwork to be completed and will delay any services you chose arrange, as well as interment.”

There was no way I was going to let this up take up a second more of my time than was absolutely necessary. “I’ll find a way to be there, then. Shall I ask for you when I arrive?”

“The clerk on desk duty will be able to assist you. Good evening, Miss Gallagher.”

I laughed, a hollow, joyless sound. “Well it was.” She hung up.

I sat back down on the couch, placing the phone next to me, then put my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands and did my damnedest to push the fact that my mother was dead aside. I wasn’t sure if I felt sad, or glad, or a bit of both and I didn’t have the energy to process any of it at the moment. The first thing I needed to do was talk to Tom. Half of me wanted him to come with me, but the other half wanted him as far away from this as possible. I figured I’d leave it up to him, thereby allowing him to make the choice I didn’t want to. He could go back to Kaua’i until the 16th and then meet me in New York if I had this settled by then, or I could just catch up with him in London on the 20th instead. I picked up my phone and looked at the time. It was twelve forty-seven, and he’d said he’d be back by one-thirty.

“Fuck. Do I wait? Do I call? If I wait will I not be able to find a flight out tomorrow? Do I need two tickets or one? Fuck. FUCK!”

Feeling completely lost and unsure of myself and what the fuck I was doing, I tapped the screen and placed the call. He picked up after five rings.

“Yeeeessss, Maude?”

I frowned. Not the greeting I was expecting. “Hey. Sorry to bother you, but do you have a second to talk?”

“If you wanted to talk to me, you should have fucking come out with us.”

His tone was terse, angry, and his words not enunciated as perfectly as usual. Slurred. A coldness began at my fingertips and spread throughout my body, in turn reflecting in my voice when I spoke.

“We need to discuss a schedule change. It’s urgent. Are you still planning on being back by one-thirty?”

“You don’t own me. I’ll be back when I fucking feel like coming back.” He hung up before I could say anything else, and when I tried to call again, it went right to voicemail.

I wanted to throw the phone across the room, but realized that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do at this juncture. One of the couch pillows went flying instead, hitting the balcony doors with a thud.

“Dead mother. Drunk Tom. Fuck her, fuck him, fuck me, fuck EVERYTHING.”

I battled to stifle my emotions so I could try to figure out, rationally, where the fuck Tom’s animosity was coming from. It wasn’t a difficult problem to solve…that he’d asked me if I loved Norman, the distance at dinner, and the way he’d walked back into the theater were essentially flashing neon signs that said ‘I’M JEALOUS’. Which I’d noticed, but I just assumed we’d talk about it when he got back, you know, like adults who have conversations. Never in a million years would I have thought he’d get rip roaring drunk and turn into an asshole over it. Which made ME want to go out and get rip roaring drunk, frankly. Something I hadn’t done in…seventeen years.

Without knowing it, he’d made my decision for me. I was going to New Orleans and dealing with this on my own. Alone. I got out my laptop and discovered that there was not a single direct flight available, but I put myself on standby for the one leaving at four PM. If I got on it, I might get there in time. There were two with connections, one at six AM and one at one PM, and I did the standby thing for those as well and purchased tickets for the connecting flights. I wouldn’t make it on time, and I’d have to be at the airport at five AM, but at least I could get the fuck out of San Diego. Checkout at the hotel wasn’t until four PM, but I booked another night anyway just in case Tom couldn’t get where he wanted to be tomorrow.

That done, I changed into shorts, a T-shirt and sandals and packed the rest of my things and put the bags in the living room area, assuming Tom would be asleep when I left for the airport. It was one-thirty when I finished, and I knew I had to keep myself busy or I’d fall apart. Having lived more than half my life with an alcoholic, I was well aware that the worst part was probably yet to come, and I was dreading his return because he might be someone I didn’t know. Nor wanted to know, if his behavior on the phone was any indication. And that was too awful a burden for me to bear, yet I’d have to shoulder it anyway, unless I chose to vanish without a trace.

“Maude, shut up. You let yourself love this person. He loves you. He’s not perfect. You’re not perfect. Let it play out and see where it goes.”

I set to work editing and watermarking photos, and it was twenty after three when I heard noise outside the door. I got up to open it, reaching it just as he flung it inward with all his might, narrowly missing me. His eyes were bloodshot, glassy and filled with contempt as he slammed it shut behind him. He wasted no time laying into me, pointing his index finger in my direction as he spoke.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, embarrassing me like that in front of my colleagues, telling me what time I can stay out until? How dare you interrupt us after being so unbelievably rude and declining Guillermo’s invitation? There is absolutely no reason why your ‘work’ couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Which leads me to believe it wasn’t WORK at all, was it? WAS IT?”

Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled, taking two steps towards me. I crossed my arms and said nothing.

“And then the sudden urgent schedule change. I see what’s going on here. I’m not fucking blind, you know. How was he, Maude? Just as good as he used to be? Did you leave the shoes on for him? Going to ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after wherever he is instead of going to New York with me now that he’s decided to take you back?”

I remained silent and still, not giving him the satisfaction of expressing any emotion.

“By all means, go right ahead. You’re easily replaced. There are literally dozens of young, beautiful women here in this hotel who’d give just about anything to fuck me right now.” He leaned in closer until he was inches from my face. “You portray yourself as this strong, independent, self-assured, confident woman when in reality you’re just a pathetic little fame whore, diving into bed with whichever celebrity is stupid enough to fuck you, riding their coattails, firmly believing that you’re someone special when you are, in fact, anything but. Talk about false advertising. It’s no wonder you haven’t had a man in years.”

Every word was like a knife in my heart, even though I knew it wasn’t really Tom, that this being standing before me was just one terrible aspect of Tom that lurked in the darkest recesses of his mind and came out to play when the liquor flowed. I also knew that as the sober one I should try to keep things under control and not agitate him, but too many years and too many times, coupled with the fact that I was devastated by everything that had been dumped in my lap over the past few hours overwhelmed me and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I uncrossed my arms and shoved him backwards.

“Want to know the REAL reason why I haven’t had a man in years?” I lifted my arms and flung them towards him, chest high, palms up, then waved my hands back and forth and up and down. “THIS. ALL OF THIS. Let’s use Norman as an example, since you fucking brought him up. He’s a funny, intelligent, kind and generous man…but when his blood alcohol level crosses a certain threshold he turns into a complete fucking douchebag. And he loves to party. Which is precisely why I never loved him, and why I ended our relationship. Yes. Me. I ended it. Not the other way around. When someone treats me like shit, I generally lose the urge to fuck them. There’s something you absolutely MUST understand about me, Tom. When I’m with someone, it’s because I choose to be, because I want to be. Not because I NEED to be. I don’t need you, I don’t NEED anyone. So go, head on out right now and find yourself one of those young, beautiful women who are simply dying to fuck you. There’s the door. I’ll make sure I’m gone in twenty minutes so you can have the place to yourselves, okay?”

He blinked at me like an owl, then marched into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. I put my luggage beside the main door, then logged back on to my laptop and typed up an email for him.

I have to leave soon, and I’m not sure if you’ll remember any of our conversation when you wake up since you were so intoxicated. There’s no way I’m going to be able to repeat what you said to your face without displaying emotions I’d rather keep to myself, so I’ve typed it up instead. I was stone cold sober, and what I said was the truth.

I wrote it all down, verbatim, while it was fresh in my mind. I’d been gaslighted so many times that I always kept a record of this sort of thing.

I needed to talk to you about a schedule change last night because I have to go to New Orleans for a few days. My mother died. Though handling things alone was preferable to me, I intended to ask if you wanted to come along, but as I wasn’t able to I opted to cancel our New York flight and booked the hotel room for an additional day in order to allow you enough time to find a flight to wherever you decide to go. I still plan on being in London on the 20th, but had to cancel both our tickets for those flights as well since they originated in New York, so you’ll need to keep that in mind.

The hospice requires that I identify the body within twenty-four hours of time of death, so I have until nine PM tomorrow (today?) to fly in and get to their facility. I tried to do it remotely, but that wasn’t acceptable to them. As the only remaining next of kin, I have to coordinate all the service arrangements and settle the estate as well. I’m hoping it won’t take more than three or four days, but I’m really not sure how complicated it will be.

There were no flights available, so I’m on standby for three. Two are connecting, one at six AM and the other at one PM. Neither of those will get me to New Orleans in time, and that will delay everything by several days. The third is a direct flight due to leave at four PM, which might get me there within the twenty-four hour window.

I’m heading out for the airport in a few minutes…I packed while I was waiting for you to return to the room. I’m emailing you some photos that need to be posted, along with instructions as to what goes where. Please get them up as soon as possible. Thanks.

For now, all of my focus needs to center on my obligations in New Orleans. Once they are fulfilled, we can discuss our situation, if you so desire.

Maude

I didn’t sign it with anything other than my name because I’d gone numb. No sentiment because I felt no sentiment. Just another defense mechanism, for sure, but I’d take it as long as it lasted. I’d allow myself to fully feel again, to wither up and die a thousand deaths, once I buried the evil bitch who’d made my life a living hell from the moment she’d brought me into it.

Tom was so smashed that I figured he’d pass out quickly, and twenty minutes later I heard him snoring. I hit send, closed up my laptop and stuffed it in my bag. I picked up my phone, sent him a brief text to let him know he should check his email, called a cab and walked out the door with my luggage. I turned back when I remembered that I still had a keycard, opened the door, flung it inside, then watched it land on the carpet and slowly fade from view as the door eased closed and finally clicked shut. As I walked toward my waiting luggage, my stomach rolled and I struggled to repress the sudden urge to vomit. It mocked me, sitting there, a physical representation of the emotional baggage I carried with me wherever I went. Simon was right. The bullshit we carry around gets in the way, and the things we don’t say wind up hurting us more than the things we do. Though we hadn’t had much time together, we’d still both waited too long, and now, we’d have to live with the consequences of our inaction. Whatever they might be.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATING: M  
> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Mature for profanity, erotica. Triggers in this chapter include: Domestic violence/abuse, miscarriage, suicide and death.  
> FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: This one is Maude’s back story. Please, please note the trigger warnings. Nothing is terribly graphic, but if mentions of these things don’t sit well with you you may want to stop reading when she begins to tell us about her past. If you would like to know the plot minus the details and feels, please feel free to message me and I’ll send you a synopsis. Lots of angst.

I was seated at the end of a chair grouping outside gate four in terminal two of the airport, luggage screened and checked. The six AM flight had departed without me, and the one PM flight would be leaving from here so it had seemed as good a place as any to wait. It was ten-thirty AM and I was on my fourth Starbucks Caffe Vanilla Frappuccino. I never drank coffee because it made me a jittery mess, but since I was already a jittery mess I figured why the fuck not. At least I’d be a conscious jittery mess this way.

The chairs were brutally uncomfortable, and fluorescent lighting flickered from time to time, or it appeared to. It could have been from sleep deprivation and anxiety, I supposed. But it didn’t seem to matter much. Nothing did. All I wanted to do was disappear into the void and not have to face any aspect of my reality. Too bad it was never that simple. Not for me, anyway. 

I tried to take a nap when I learned there would be no seats available on the six AM flight, but every time I nodded off either Tom’s words or my mother’s face would pop uninvited into my head and jar me awake. Focusing enough to read online or off was impossible, and any song I played on my iPod upset me for some stupid reason. Walking around worked for a while, carryon in tow, moving from place to place, sucking down my Frappuccino and visiting the bathroom every half hour, until I noticed airport security watching me. That’s how I wound up here, sitting down, staring at the walls, reading the signs over and over again and not comprehending a single thing they said. The people walking by were like ghosts, each living a life completely outside of my realm. They smiled, they hugged, and they laughed while I sat waiting to board a jet that would take me somewhere I’d never wanted to be again, where I’d have to gaze upon the lifeless body of a woman I’d never wanted to see again. 

And then there was…Tom. I was incredibly angry at myself for growing so attached so quickly, for letting him in. I knew better. But I did it anyway, because…there was that feeling. That this was the person. My person. It was all so fast, but it had felt right. And whether I liked it or not, I loved him. He deserved a chance to explain himself, certainly, but I wasn’t sure I was capable of giving it to him. Some of the things he’d said cut very deeply, and by my own admission forgiveness wasn’t a thing that came easily to me. Yes, he’d been drunk. But that’s the thing about words…once they’re said, you can never take them back. Your state of mind when you speak them is essentially irrelevant if they’re heard and they hurt. 

Yet in spite of what had transpired, I missed him terribly already. I wanted him right next to me, warm, present, here. I felt…halved. Alone. And lonely. There had to be an underlying issue that caused him to behave in such a fashion, didn’t there? Or, perhaps the man I saw last night was the real Tom, and the one I’d spent the past two weeks with and thought I’d known was simply proof positive that he was just a better actor than anyone could have ever imagined.

More than anything else, I felt stupid. Stupid for thinking that love at first sight could actually happen, and even stupider for thinking it could happen to me. I was not meant for this. No matter how far I thought I’d come, I would never be more than this broken thing on the inside, a thing that couldn’t even earn the love of its own mother, no matter hard it tried.

My phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, instantly ejected from my introspection. I thumbed to unlock the screen. It was Tom. Heart pounding, disgusted with myself when I realized that I wanted nothing more than to pick it up, say hello and make everything better, I flung it down on the seat next to me as if I’d been burned.

Four minutes later, the voicemail alert chimed. Staring down at it, I began rubbing my temples and had a lengthy back and forth with myself as to whether or not I should listen to it. 

“Eh, fuck it. Let’s see what he has to say. At this stage of the game, I don’t think there’s anything that could make me feel worse than I already do.” 

I clicked, held the phone up to my ear and listened. His voice was several octaves higher than normal, his speech wavering between halting and rambling and filled with anxious panic, reminiscent of a child who’s just realized he’s lost and alone in a strange, unfamiliar place.

“Maude? I…it’s…I don’t know…I slept through my alarm and it’s after ten and we were supposed to be on a plane already but I woke up and you’re gone and all of your things are gone…” He choked back a sob. “And I don’t remember anything from last night after you called me…” Another sob. “I…Maude…what I said…I’m so sorry…I was just…I thought you…didn’t want to…be with me…” He was openly weeping now as he spoke, addressing himself more so than me. “I’m not…I…how did I even get back here? I don’t know…what happened? What did…did…I do? My god, what did I do that made you leave without me?” An agonized, muffled cry, as if from behind a hand-covered mouth. “Where are you, Maude? Why aren’t you here? Please call me. Please. Please.” Another cry, gasping this time, then silence.

My stomach heaved, and this time there was no holding back. I ran for the closest restroom but only made it as far as the garbage can around the corner. I vomited up all four Frappuccinos, then continued to retch long after there was nothing left to be brought forth. I leaned on the rim, face still hovering over the can, until I heard a voice behind me. It was airport security.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?”

I wiped my mouth with my forearm as I pushed myself into a standing position, shaking like a Chihuahua and wishing I could make myself invisible.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks. Sorry about that. Coffee and I don’t get along very well, apparently. Now I remember why I switched to tea.” I tried to smile, but it just wasn’t happening. He handed me some paper towels.

“Ma’am, if you need to use the restroom I’d be happy to keep an eye on your bag for you.”

I nodded and handed him my carryon but kept my messenger bag. “Thank you so much.”

My reflection in the mirror was gaunt, the dark circles under my eyes highlighted by yesterday’s makeup, which I had forgotten to remove. I looked like I’d been out all night partying, eyeliner smeared, mascara clumped and flaking. I rested my hands on the counter and leaned in closer to my reflection.

“Well, how do you feel, you fucking dumbass? What’s that? You feel….WORSE?” I barked out a laugh, then turned on the tap and rinsed my mouth out by cupping water in my hands, then ran my index finger over my teeth in a crude attempt at brushing. There was toothpaste in my carryon, but there was no way in hell I was going back out for it right now. 

Next I washed my face as best I could with the paper ‘towels’ from the dispenser. There was nothing towel-like about them, and my eyes were red as fire after I scrubbed off the makeup, contacts all askew until I blinked repeatedly to get them back where they belonged. I wet two more towels with super cold water, then held them on my eyes for a few minutes. Most of the redness had faded, and I took out my braid and put my hair in a ponytail.

“Better, Maude. Hopefully the dude won’t want to haul you in because he suspects you’re a vagrant. Or a prostitute. Or a drug dealer. Or a terrorist. Or a vagrant, drug dealing, prostituting terrorist.” 

He was guarding my bag, as promised, and handed me my phone as I approached him.

“Ma’am, you dropped this. It looks like it’s fine, though.”

I managed to fake a smile this time. “Thanks again. I really appreciate it. Crazy day, you know? I’m on standby for three flights trying to get to New Orleans for my mother’s funeral. Well, two, now. The first one didn’t work out. The next one leaves from this gate…it’s okay if I wait here until I find out if I’ll be on it, right?” I pulled up my confirmations on the phone, grabbed my ID out of my messenger bag and showed them to him.

He nodded. “Sure thing, ma’am. Take care.”

“Thanks.” I sank down in the chair, crushed under the weight of my emotions, feuding with the compulsion to not only call him, but to get in a cab and rush back to the hotel so I could comfort him and alleviate his pain in spite of that which he had caused me. 

My phone rang again, and I decided that if it was Tom again I’d pick up. It wasn’t. The screen flashed at me…’Lestat calling’. It was Anne. Good. I needed a healthy dose of anger to get my sad-sack ass back on track. Because bitches get shit done. I hit the answer button.

“Maude, honey, how are you doing? I figured I’d call to check…”

“I’d be doing infinitely better if you hadn’t given the hospice my phone number, that’s for fucking sure.”

She clucked her tongue at me, which made me grip the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. “Kiddo, there was no one else to handle all that needed to…”

“Oh, I’m aware of that NOW. Did you know she was divorced this entire time?”

She hesitated. “Maude, listen…”

“You did, you fucking DID. And you never bothered to tell me.”

A sigh escaped her. “You never wanted me to talk about her.”

“Oh, right…like that ever stopped you from going right ahead doing it anyway.”

“In hindsight, perhaps I should have mentioned it.”

“Ya think?” I inhaled deeply, aware that if I continued being so loud I’d be receiving another visit from airport security. “Are you going to tell me what happened between them or do I have to wait until I get there and be blindsided with it by a total stranger?”

“He left her. For an eighteen year old. Who was a senior in high school. They’ve since married and have three children.”

After letting it sink in for a few moments, I began chuckling softly, which quickly evolved into raucous laughter. Unable to regain my composure, I tried to speak through it. “Oh, Anne. You most certainly should have mentioned it. That’s…” I wiped a tear from my eye. “It’s…it’s…fucking hilarious.” 

“Maude, please, she just passed away. And it hurt her terribly when it happened. How could you possibly think it’s amusing?”

My laughter ceased and was replaced with fury. “The same way you could have possibly thought I’d give even the remotest shit if she was alive or dead, Anne. That’s how. And because you, sanctimonious Christian Samaritan that you are, wanted to ensure that she was sent off to your fairytale afterlife properly I’m stuck being the stupid fuck who’s responsible for it all. You know the whole story, Anne. Every bit of it. You mean to tell me you can’t understand why I’d take pleasure in learning that karma finally caught up with her? Seriously? Well, at least now I get why you never told me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m kind of having a massively shitty day here and I need to go.” 

As I hit the end call button, I realized my hands were shaking wildly and I felt lightheaded, and that I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. I hefted my bags over my shoulder and looked at the airport dining map on my phone. Einstein Brothers Bagels sounded promising, and after waiting in line for a shockingly brief five minutes my food was ready. I sat at a table, sucking down a thirty-two ounce Coke while starring down my bacon, egg and cheddar sandwich. I wasn’t at all hungry, but passing out in the airport sounded like it might be a hassle so I forced myself to eat it, trying not to gag as I did so. It was almost eleven-thirty when I finally finished, and I walked back to my spot. My phone dinged. It was a text from Simon.

Are you okay? – S

I had no idea if he knew anything, and if he did, what it was. I hadn’t mentioned a thing to anyone other than Tom via email as to what was going on.

Why wouldn’t I be? – M

Tom called us. – S

Well, then you know that ‘are you okay’ is, like, a totally loaded question. – M

Are you still at the airport? – S

Yeah. First standby was a bust, should know about the second one any minute now. I may or may not have puked in a garbage can earlier and I think airport security may have flagged me as a vagrant, drug dealing, prostituting terrorist. – M

Good to see you still have your sense of humor. – S

Sarcasm is my secret coping mechanism. When the humor goes, you’ll know things are really in the shitter, my friend. How much did he tell you? – M

Too much, like he always does. I’m sorry about your mother. – S

Don’t be. I’m not. – M

Marry me, woman. – S

Seriously, though. How are you holding up? – S

I’m sort of…not? But I don’t want to talk about any of it, just so you know. I need to deal with dead mother first, then I can try to sort out the rest. – M

You know I hear that, sister. Mothers. Bring you screaming into the world, and then they do their best to make sure you keep screaming. And screaming. – S

*virtual high five* - M

If you need me, honey, any time, I’m here, K? – S

Thanks. Love you. – M

Love you too. – S

Shaking my head, I wondered how Luke was handling all this and remembered my assurance that no matter what happened between Tom and me personally, the work would continue as specified and in a professional manner. I frowned as I took my tablet out of my bag and powered it up, checking to see if Tom had done what I’d asked. Everything was posted exactly as I’d specified. The sight of his countenance made my stomach queasy again, and I leaned my head back to let it rest on the wall behind me as I stared at the ceiling and attempted to convince my breakfast to stay put. As soon as the feeling passed, I put my tablet away and texted Luke.

Everything’s still on track for me being in London on the 20th, and I’ll be working wherever I am between now and then. If you need something, have questions, whatever, let me know. – M

His response was immediate.

I don’t want you giving anything work related a moment of thought right now. Do what you need to do back home, and take your time doing it, all right? If there’s anything I can do to help in some way, let me know. – L

I sighed.

Thank you. Though I can’t help but work…I need the distraction. – M

I’m the same way. We’re here if you need us. – XO L & S

The PA system clicked on and I heard a woman’s voice say my name. “Maude Gallagher, please report to the check in desk. Maude Gallagher, please report to the check in desk. Thank you.” 

Got called to check in…maybe this flight is a go. Thanks again, both of you. – XO M

As I made my way to the desk, the initial excitement at the prospect of getting the fuck out of San Diego faded and was replaced with panic as the grim reality of what was waiting for me in New Orleans began to settle in. There were three stations open, and I chose the one with two people in line ahead of me. When my turn came, I presented my ID to the clerk, a blonde woman in her late twenties, if I had to guess. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and her makeup was perfection…just enough color to make her features stand out, but barely noticeable. And a lip color shade that wasn’t more than a decade old, too. I had the sudden urge to begin reading Vogue and Glamour again, then snickered to myself when I realized I could look up anything and everything beauty related online but had never bothered to do so.

She smiled at me, teeth blindingly white. “May I help you?”

“I was notified via the PA system to report to the check in desk…Maude Gallagher? I’m on standby for two more flights today so I assume you have news for me?”

Her eyes roamed over my ID and her face flushed. “Ms. Gallagher. Right. Follow me, please.” She stepped out from behind the counter and over to her left, into a small alcove at the start of the hallway to the security offices. The first thing I noticed was my luggage piled up against the wall.

I gently grabbed her shoulder. “Wait, why is my…”

And then I noticed that there was someone standing next to my luggage. My brain froze, my heart stopped and my arm slipped from the clerk’s shoulder and fell back to my side. He was wearing his black sweatshirt, hood up, with jeans and those filthy white Vans. Sunglasses hid his eyes from me, and I was torn between wanting to embrace him or punch him in his pretty fucking face.

Seven steps closed the distance between us, and I reminded myself that we were in public and that it was Comic-Con weekend and he was very recognizable, so I’d best try to not make a scene.

I snarled, and my voice came forth in a hiss. “Why the fuck are you here? And what are you doing with my luggage?”

He removed the shades, and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, tearing up as he tried to meet my gaze. “Maude…I…I know that I’m the last person you want to see right now…”

“Um, no, you aren’t the last. Second to last, probably. Either way, I sure as shit have zero desire to look at you, yet here you are.”

He swallowed and wiped away a tear that had carved out a path through the stubble on his cheek. “I’m so, so sorry. But I had to come. It couldn’t let you sit here waiting and waiting to go do what you have to do when I’ve found a way to get you where you need to be, on time.”

I rolled my eyes as I crossed my arms, subconsciously protecting myself. “Thomas, there are no flights out of here other than my two stand-bys, so unless you have a magic carpet or your own private jet…oh, fuck ME. A charter. Don’t tell me you chartered a fucking jet. Why didn’t I think of that? What a fucking moron I am…I could have been there already.” I put my hand on my forehead, looked down and gazed at a crack in the tile floor.

He reached out to touch my arm, and I yanked it away, glaring at him. His bottom lip quivered, and he inhaled sharply as he tried to rein in his emotions.

“Yes. I chartered a flight. It will depart from Landmark Aviation whenever you’re ready to leave. There’s a car waiting outside.”

As mortifying as it was, desperation easily won out over my anger, and I knew that even if I’d had to sell my soul, if I possessed such a thing, there was no way I was passing this up. The sooner I got to New Orleans, the sooner it would all be finished. Finally finished. I could close the chapter once and for all and move on, though I was now much less sure of what I’d be moving on to than I was twenty-four hours ago. I unstacked my luggage, situated the handles and prepared to head out. “Don’t think for one second that I’m letting you pay for this…I don’t need your fucking charity.”

“Maude, it’s already taken care of, and please, it’s not chari…”

“Fuck you. Email me a bill and I’ll send you a check. Where’s the car?” He tried to take the bags from me. “No. I can schlep around my own shit. I’m not fucking helpless. Speaking of, how did you get your hands on these, anyway? They told me they’d stay checked and go out on the direct flight at four PM and be waiting for me at Louis Armstrong even if I wasn’t on board.”

He put his hands in his pockets and began walking to the main doors, head down. “One of the clerks is a fan. She pulled some strings.”

I didn’t reply, instead dropping back so I could follow his lead. He held the door for me, which I permitted, and walked down to the waiting limousine. I shook my head as the driver leapt out of the car to open the door, then gathered my belongings and placed them in the trunk. As I buckled in, the door opposite me opened and Tom climbed in. My jaw clenched as I turned to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

“To the airfield?”

“Yes. And then to New Orleans. Because regardless of anything that’s happened between us, you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

My eyes narrowed. “I shouldn't have to do this at all, and if Anne hadn't given the hospice my number I wouldn't be.” 

He frowned and shook his head. “Why wouldn’t they already have your information? Did you not know she was ill?”

“Yes. I knew. Anne told me almost two weeks ago.”  
His brow furrowed, and it was obvious to me where this was going to end up. 

I sighed. “Yes, Tom. I knew she was dying. And I didn’t go see her. And guess what else? I still don’t want to fucking see her.”

His eyes widened, shocked at my statement and disgusted by my coldness. “But Maude, she's your mother.”

I could feel my face contort into something ugly, something horrible, twisted with pain. “She may have given birth to me, but she was never my mother, and she’s already been dead to me for a very long time.”

He gasped softly, but said nothing. I stared straight ahead and remained that way for the eight minutes it took us to reach Landmark Aviation. The driver opened my door, then Tom’s, and another employee arrived with a cart for our luggage, which they whisked off to the waiting Learjet 35A. The office area was open plan, two floors with a modern design and floor to ceiling windows. I sat in the waiting area while Tom completed all the paperwork, joining him only when the clerk requested my presence so he could obtain all the required identification information. He walked us to the jet, where we were greeted by the pilot who advised it would take approximately four hours to reach New Orleans. I climbed the stairs into the cabin, which consisted of seven seats in dark brown leather. Two chairs faced each other, two were in the rear across from a bench seat, and another bench seat was up front beside the facing chairs. There was a refreshment area with a mini-fridge and microwave, as well as a bathroom. I walked all the way to the back and strapped myself into one of the bench seats, my messenger bag next to me to prevent Tom from sitting near me. I needn’t have worried, as he sat up front with his back towards me. 

Our takeoff was perfection, and the pilot announced that we could unbuckle ourselves and move freely about the cabin shortly thereafter. I undid my seat belt but stayed where I was. Tom blew his nose, got up, walked back to where I was and knelt in front of me. He’d taken off his hoodie, his well-worn blue V-neck nearly see-through in the harsh interior lighting. It was obvious that he’d been crying, his eyes bloodshot and still damp.

“It was very, very wrong of me to pass judgement on you like that. Especially after…” He closed his eyes briefly. “It’s just…my mother and I are so close…but I should know better than to assume that everyone is so fortunate. If yours was ill enough to be in hospice and you didn’t want to see her then and don’t want to now, you must have good reason for feeling as you do.”

I turned away from him. He shifted so he was in my line of sight again.

“If you don’t want to be with me any longer after this…” He swallowed. “I…I’ll understand. I won’t want to accept it, but it’s my fault and I’ll do whatever you wish me to do because I love you. But please, let me help you through this. Don’t shut me out.”

I met his gaze, my heart full of ice and my head full of sorrow. “Oh, sure, right. Because letting you in has worked out so well for me.”

He broke down then, right in front of me, placing his hands over his face as he tried to stifle his sobs. He wept until he retched, then got up and went to the lavatory. I heard him vomit several times, and he finally emerged fifteen minutes later and returned to his chair at the front of the cabin. Great, puking all around today. This love stuff is the best.

As I stared at the back of his seat, it crossed my mind that he might be just as broken and lost as I was, and I needed him to know why I was. Right now, even if it was too late to make a difference. I rose and walked up front, then slowly lowered myself into the chair across from him and attempted to put it all into words.

I spoke softly, emotionless. “Tom, we fell into this so very fast, and neither of us reached the point of revealing all we’ve been through. We’re both intelligent enough to know that what happens in someone’s past affects them in the present, no matter how hard they try to deny or avoid it. If you really want to be with me through this, there are things you need to know in order to fully understand me, so you don’t think I’m a monster for not seeing my…mother…when she was dying in hospice, and to help you decide if you want to remain in this relationship.”

He looked at me, a faint smile on his lips at the mention of there still being a relationship to remain in.

“Don’t take that the wrong way…I should have phrased it differently.” His face fell. “I’m not certain where we stand, because I don’t know what I want to do about what ocurred last night. But, from an emotional vantage point, I’m one hundred percent certain that I’m incapable of dealing with it at the moment. What I do know is I that can’t let you be a part of this if you’re still completely unaware of everything that…happened. For now, I just want to say my piece and for you to listen. Is that all right with you?”

He nodded.

I leaned back in the chair and began, hands shaking as I tried to keep my voice evenly modulated.

“My parents met in February of 1977, in a pub in Dalkey, Ireland, my father’s hometown. His name was Sean, and he was born in Dublin but grew up in Dalkey. His family wasn’t flat broke, but they were far from what you’d consider middle class and he was bartending at the pub to make ends meet. He was nineteen. My mother, Mary Clarke, was born and raised in Manchester, England. Her father was a prominent solicitor, her mother distantly related to the royal family. Or so she claimed. Either way, they were quite wealthy and had a summer cottage in Dalkey. She was eighteen years old, engaged to an Earl who was in his last year at Oxford University, and due to be married in May of that year. Her and her girlfriends decided to take their last holiday as singles over Valentine’s weekend, staying until the following Sunday. She was Protestant, my father was Catholic, and she felt inspired to sow her wild oats with what she considered to be a ‘bad boy’. He fell madly in love with her after their week together, and she left him high and dry and went back to Manchester. Two months later, she discovered she was pregnant, which was problematic as she had yet to sleep with her fiancé. The engagement was called off, her family publicly disgraced, and her father sent her packing to Dalkey and forced her to marry my father lest she be completely disinherited. They married and immigrated to the states, my maternal grandfather having used his connections to find him a position with Exxon, working on an oil rig off the coast of New Orleans.”

I paused, and Tom reach over to the mini-fridge and handed me a bottle of water, which I cracked open and drank greedily. 

“Thanks. She hated New Orleans, but her narcissistic personality disorder made her want to not only fit in, but stand out. Her father paid for the trip over and got them set up in a two bedroom apartment, but after that he cut her off completely. Even more than New Orleans itself, she hated being ‘poor’ in New Orleans. She often spent all the funds designated for bills on clothes, which meant my father was never around, because in addition to his week-long shifts he worked overtime on the weekends to make up for her expenditures. She desperately wanted to live in the Garden District, but settled for being a big fish in a little pond, working her magic to impress the women who resided near our apartment building, even adopting a southern accent so she could pretend to be native to the area. When I came early on Halloween, she was thrilled that she’d had a little girl and began habitually dressing me up and showing me off to all her new friends, but that didn’t last long. One of the first things I remember is her combing my hair roughly as she tried using some smelly product to straighten it, telling me she wished it was red like my father’s and straight like hers, instead of this dingy brown bird’s nest of unattractive curls. I couldn’t have been more than three.” 

I swallowed, hard. “I wasn’t what she expected, I guess. Puberty began early for me, when I was around eight or so, and I put on some weight, as most girls do. She made fun of me in front of anyone willing to listen, called me fat, forced me to diet and exercise, and told me that she was disappointed I’d turned out to be so ugly, that I embarrassed her and made her look like a terrible mother.”

He cringed, and I saw his hand reach for me, then retract. 

“By that time, my father had moved up the ladder at Exxon and was on his way to being an executive, so he was home with us most evenings and weekends instead of being out on the rigs. She’d always been a drinker, but mainly socially. His being around so much seemed to trigger something in her, and just like that, we were living with a full-blown alcoholic. Every day began with a swig from the bottle of vodka she kept on her nightstand, and I rarely saw her without a drink in her hand. She’d rage around the house at all hours, coming into my room in the middle of the night to scream at me for something I’d done that had offended her in some way, sometimes dragging me out of bed to rectify whatever mistake she thought I’d made. My father would try to reason with her, but she’d threaten to divorce him and he’d back off and leave her to her own devices. She was the love of his life, and he would have done anything to keep her. We wound up being asked to leave our apartment building because of all the complaints from the neighbors, and my father found a single family home for us to rent in an attempt to cover it all up. That’s just what people did then, I guess. Keeping up appearances, hiding the truth.”

I got up from my chair. “Sorry, need to use the bathroom.”

After peeing and washing my hands, I splashed some water on my face but refrained from looking in the mirror, afraid of what I’d see staring back at me. He was pacing when I came out, but sat down again as I did.

“In 1988, my maternal grandfather died and my mother inherited a sizable sum of money. She lost herself in the process of buying and remodeling our home in the Garden District and the drinking diminished significantly…at least until she realized that no matter how expensive her clothes were or that we had a live-in housekeeper and a French chef, the women of the neighborhood who’d been there for generations would never accept her as one of their own. When Anne met my father at a Sunday service, my mother suddenly wanted to convert to Catholicism, hoping ties with one of the area’s most famous residents would improve her standing. She changed her mind when she found out that Anne was sober and had no qualms about pushing those around her to live the same lifestyle. The drinking escalated again, and by the time I was thirteen I was spending every moment possible at the New Orleans Public Library, or at Anne’s, or wherever else I could go that wasn’t home.”

Tom offered me another water, which I accepted. I’d been trying to avoid his gaze, but his hand grazed mine as he handed me the bottle and our eyes locked. We stared at each other briefly, then quickly looked away. 

“School was a blessing for me in many ways, in spite of the fact that I was teased and bullied frequently. I was smart, weird, and chubby…not exactly a winning combination. By the time I entered high school, I started to come into my own and stand up for myself amongst my peers, but at home I was still meek, always walking on eggshells. If I got a ninety-nine on a test, she wanted to know why it wasn’t a hundred. If I got an A, why wasn’t it an A+? Nothing I did was good enough. Ever. No matter how hard I tried, there was no pleasing her. I started hiding out in my room after I conned our chef into helping me put a slide bolt on the inside of the door. That was my sanctuary, where I read, I drew, I danced, and I sang. For my sixteenth birthday I asked for a computer instead of a car, and it changed my life. I tore it apart and put it back together again, learned everything about it, inside and out. It became my passion, and knowing that I could do something that not many others could was such a powerful feeling. The real turning point came at the start my senior year when I was awarded the full scholarship to NYIT. She was adamant that no daughter of hers was going to go away to school in New York City and study such a stupid subject that was meant for men. It was the first time I lost my shit on her, and the first time that my father backed me up. She refused to contribute any money, so he sold some of his Exxon stock and bought me an apartment in Manhattan so I wouldn’t have to stay in a dorm. Or, I should say, my apartment. Because I still live in it. Sometimes.”

I smiled sadly, remembering how proud he’d been of me, and so happy that he’d been able to help me on the path to making my own way in the world. “College was…amazing. I was away from my mother, spending every day learning in the company of people who were like…me. I put on my ‘freshman fifteen’ and then some, but no one cared. We were all nerds, and what was inside was far more intriguing than what was on the outside. I met Erik Lund in my Comp Sci I class, and over the course of the first semester we became very good friends, taking in all that New York had to offer when we weren’t delving into the wonder that was the World Wide Web. It was 1995, and the hacking scene was exploding…god, we had so much fun trying to crack codes and get in through back doors, even if all we wound up finding was someone’s resume. It was if a new world had been created, one that belonged solely to us. Over Christmas break, I came to the stunning realization that I’d developed feelings for him, and when class was back in session he confessed that he felt the same way. We fell in love, a little bit at a time. I invited him back to New Orleans for spring break, and he couldn’t wait to see where I’d grown up. I guess I’d pushed all thoughts of my mother out of my mind, forgetting what she was capable of. From the moment he walked into the house she began criticizing everything about him. He was stocky, his hairline already receding, and, like me, he didn’t really give a remote shit about what he wore. And I thought everything about him was…beautiful. Right in front of him, she told me that even an ugly fat girl like me could do better. We left immediately and spent the rest of the week in my apartment in the city, slept together for the first time, and he officially moved in three weeks later. I took a summer class so I wouldn’t have to go home, but I’d agreed to be a bridesmaid for a close high school friend who was getting married over Labor Day weekend, so I had to fly back for the wedding. I wanted Erik to come with me, but my mother would be in attendance and I didn’t want to subject him to her insanity again, so he went back home to upstate New York to spend time with his family instead.”

I could feel my heart starting to race, and I closed my eyes and bit my lip, trying to calm myself down. 

“I got a phone call the day after the wedding from one of Erik’s friends. He’d been killed in a car accident the night before, hit by a drunk driver doing eighty miles an hour in a forty-five mile an hour zone who crossed over the middle line.”

My mind took me back to that moment, how I’d said no, that can’t be right, it must be a mistake, how I’d fallen to the floor as the truth sank in, wishing I’d died with him. And later, how my mother had smirked when I told her the news. 

“I flew to New York for his funeral, and two weeks later I found out I was pregnant. My mother tried to convince me to have an abortion, but I refused. It was the last thing that remained of him, a living piece of himself he’d left behind for me. His legacy. I decided to quit school, stay in New Orleans and raise the baby on my own. A few days later, I miscarried.” 

Tom sniffled, and I looked up to see tears flowing, his hands gripping the armrests as he fought to stay in his seat. I wanted him to hold me, more than anything else. But I just…couldn’t. 

“My heart was broken. I felt like there was no point to anything anymore, and that’s when I started drinking. First, I snuck booze from my mother’s stash. Then I had a fake ID made and started going out to bars every night, staying past close and staggering home to sleep the day away. I wasn’t eating, so I lost a ton of weight. My mother made it a point to compliment me on how thin I’d gotten. During Mardi Gras of 1997, I met Will Bonaventura. He had long, dark curly hair, dark brown eyes…Spanish creole, going back three generations. I was drunk and singing karaoke, and after he heard me he asked me if I wanted to sing with his band. He played lead guitar, and I figured it was a great excuse to party. You know, ‘hey, I’m not a drunk, I’m an artist’. I moved into his shitty apartment and continued my binging. That’s really all we had in common…partying. That and music. One weekend we decided to drive to Las Vegas for a Battle of the Bands, and I drank so much I blacked out and woke up with a ring on my finger and a photo of us with the Elvis impersonator who’d married us. He said he remembered everything that had happened, that I said I’d loved him, but it was all…blank…for me. Once we got back to New Orleans and he met my family the abuse started. Just verbal initially, constantly belittling me, accusing me of cheating, calling me a slut, telling me he was going to find someone better. My solution was to drink more. I started when I opened my eyes and didn’t stop until they closed. Time just passed, and I…slipped away. More than a year had gone by when he finally hit me. It was early in the morning so I wasn’t totally blotto yet, and got in his face after he started his shit and told him that usually people who accuse their partners of cheating are the ones who are being unfaithful, and he punched me in the face and called me a worthless whore.”

I watched Tom’s grip tighten, and thought he was going to rip the armrest right off the chair.

“I hit him in the head with a rum bottle, and he left for a few days. He never touched me again, for any reason. A month or two later, my father came over to the apartment. He told me I needed to stop drinking, that I had my whole life ahead of me and that he didn’t want me to wind up like my mother, that I needed to get away from her and New Orleans, that I was brilliant and I had to go out and make my life mean something. He apologized for letting his love for my mother blind him for all those years as to how much she hurt me. We embraced, and he was gone as quickly as he’d come. The next morning Anne called me to tell me that he’d killed himself. My mother found him in his study. He’d shot himself in the head with a revolver.”

Tom opened his mouth and started to speak, but I held up my hand to silence him. I was almost there, almost done.

“I haven’t taken another drink since that day. After the funeral, Will was nowhere to be found. My father had left me all of his remaining Exxon stock, which of course pissed my mother off to no end, and I decided to cash it in and move back to New York a week after we buried him. I already had a place to live rent free, and I wouldn’t need to worry about money for a while. I packed up what I wanted to bring with me, which didn’t even fill an entire suitcase, and headed over to what was now my mother’s house to confront her about being such an evil cunt my entire life before I left. When I got there, the door was unlocked, so I went inside. I could hear her moaning and screaming and chanting ‘oh god yes, yes, harder, harder’ and it was like someone flipped a switch and I saw red. I ran up the marble staircase and could see that the door to their…her bedroom was open and as I got closer I yelled ‘He hasn’t even been dead for two weeks and you’re already fucking someone else you enormous piece of shit?!’. When I stepped into the room, there was Will, naked and on top of her. He rolled off, grinned at me, and she said in her stupid fucking fake southern accent ‘Actually, we’ve been fucking for months already. See, Maude, that’s the thing about women like you. Sure, y’all might manage to get yourself a man, and hell, he might even stick around for a little while, but you’ll never be able to hang on to him. They’ll always leave you the second they find someone prettier. And thinner. Always.’. That was the last thing she ever said to me. I left town, and I found out from Anne that she’d told my father she was having an affair, was in love with Will and wanted a divorce, which is why he killed himself…he’d mailed his suicide note to Anne because he knew if he left it at the house, my mother would have made it disappear. I filed for divorce immediately, and as soon as it was final two months later, in August of 1998, Will married my mother. I didn’t know it until last night, but they divorced in 2007, which is why I’m the only remaining next of kin.”

I took a deep breath. “I guess the thing that sticks out most is that I have not a single memory of her touching me, holding me, or telling me that she loved me, unless someone else was watching. I was just a pawn for her, an object, just another thing to use to get what she wanted. And when that didn’t work any longer, she focused all of her anger on me, blaming me for everything that had gone wrong in her life, and what she then wanted more than anything else was to see me fail. Over and over again.”

I raised my hands, palms up. “So, there you have it. That's who I am, what I am. The progeny of a narcissistic alcoholic and her love blinded enabler who's already been pregnant, married and divorced. Used goods, broken down, badly damaged, always waiting to be replaced. Reasonably acceptable for fucking, but thoroughly unsuitable for an actual relationship.”

As I stood, he leapt up from his chair and tried to embrace me. I shook my head, put my hands on his chest and pushed him away gently, then went to sit back on the bench. He sat back down, head in his hands, sobbing again. I took out my iPod, put in my earbuds, cranked up the volume and leaned my head on the window. I stared blankly out at the sky, my self-imposed isolation the only thing preventing me from losing control of myself and falling apart. Which I refused to do. Because it was the only thing I had left to hold onto.

**********************************  
There was darkness, and I felt arms reach around me, hands on my lower back and below, fumbling, searching. They found what they were looking for, and I felt something slide along my back and then up around my waist. A strong scent hit my nostrils, one I recognized but couldn’t place. I inhaled again. Tom. A click from down near my belly button. I tried to open my eyes, but the lids were just too heavy. Then, the feel of something soft and warm being pulled up over me as I drifted away.

A loud voice saying ‘We’re now approaching MSY, landing in ten.’ jarred me fully awake, my eyes flying open. I was unsure of where I was for a brief span, but then everything came flooding back at once. I looked around in a panic. A pillow had been placed between my head and the window, and a blanket covered everything but my feet. I pushed it off me, then glanced to my right and saw my iPod and earbuds resting next to my messenger bag, along with a bag of Lindor truffles. Then my eyes found Tom, seated in the chair across from me. As I studied his face, his shirt, his hands, his knees, all of him, a cyclone of emotions overwhelmed me and I realized that I was no longer numb. 

The left corner of his mouth turned up in a sad half-smile. “Hope you don’t mind that I took your headphones out and gave you a pillow and blanket. You fell asleep almost immediately, and I figured you needed the rest and didn’t want the music to awaken you, or for you to wind up with a stiff neck, or be cold. And I apologize for touching you without your permission when I buckled you in…the pilot announced…”

And just like that, I saw him again. Tom. He knew everything, and he still cared for me. 

I shook my head, interrupting him. “It’s all fine. Thank you.” I pointed at the blanket and pillow. “For these.” Then at the truffles. “For those.” Then waved my hands and ran my gaze around the cockpit. “And this.” My eyes met his. “And for wanting to be here. And for listening.” I pointed at the truffles again. “But especially for those.”

He laughed softly, and I smiled, then bit my lower lip. 

“Tom, how did you know I’d still be at the airport?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“What was your plan if I hadn’t been there?”

He leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Take the jet myself and wait for you to arrive at Louis Armstrong.”

“I might not have gotten there for another day. Or two.”

“I had no intentions of ever leaving that airport without you by my side.”

What I wanted to do, what I needed to do about last night became abundantly clear to me.

“Did you book a room yet?”

He looked down briefly, then back up at me, face red. “Yes. At the Prytania Park Hotel. I chose a double queen, in case you preferred to not sleep with…to have your own bed. They’re separate, one on the main floor and the other up a spiral staircase so you’ll have…”

I interrupted him again. “How about a car?”

“Yes. A rental. I won’t know what make and model until we get there.”

“Thanks for taking care of it all. After we land, I’d like to go directly to Passages Hospice and get…that…over with. Once we’re checked in to the hotel, there’s something I want you to do.”

His jaw twitched, then he nodded. “Anything.”

“I want you to tell me why. Why you reacted the way you did after we ran into Norman. Why you got so drunk. Why you said those things to me. And, most importantly, I want you to tell me why it is that your life became so dark.”

He paled, folded himself in half, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. After a few moments he sat up and ran his hands through his hair, then began touching his neck. He was breathing through his mouth, fear in his eyes.

“Maude. I…I..” He shook his head. “I’m afraid if I tell you, I may lose you.”

I put my hand on his knee, and he looked frantically back and forth from my hand to my face, shocked at my touch. 

“Thomas, you’re definitely going to lose me if you don’t tell me.”

As the jet touched down I removed my hand. He was looking down, eyes darting back and forth. The cabin door opened, the steps lowered. I unbuckled my seat belt, put my iPod and the truffles in my messenger bag, then headed for the door. Tom followed. 

As I stepped outside, the oppressive humidity and smells of the city washed over me, drowning me in memories. I proceeded down the stairs, and as my feet made contact with the tarmac it hit me that I was…back. In the place I’d vowed to never be again. The place that had taken from me so much more than anyone should ever have to give. The place where I’d lost everything. I could feel the panic rising, and as I lifted my hand to place it on my chest in an attempt to calm down, Tom took it in his. I stared straight ahead as our fingers intertwined, then stepped forward as he squeezed gently. I squeezed back, and we slowly made our way toward the gates, the pilot pulling our luggage on a cart behind us.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triggers in this chapter include: BDSM, physical violence, loss of pregnancy, and death.  
> FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Maude sees her mother, and Tom’s back story. Please, please note the trigger warnings.The BDSM is a small part of the chapter, but it contains graphic depictions of certain BDSM elements that could be considered violent. Lots of angst.

I’d let go of his hand as soon as we reached the doors. Once we were inside, Tom thanked the pilot profusely, then took over luggage cart duty. When I saw the time displayed on the terminal clock, I felt like a moron for forgetting about the zone difference…there was no way I could have ever gotten here on time no matter what commercial flight I’d taken. We stopped at the first restroom we came to, and I fished through one of my suitcases to find a change of clothes, then took them into the bathroom with my carryon while he kept watch over our bags. Though the terminal was nice and cool, outside the weather was typical New Orleans in July…hot as fucking hell. Though it would have probably been more socially acceptable to wear a dress or something…nice…I just couldn’t bring myself to put on anything other than another pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I figured the people at the hospice should just be grateful that I’d bothered to change so I wouldn’t reek too badly when I arrived.

Putting on a bra in a bathroom stall is a nightmare of epic proportions. I whacked my elbow so hard I saw stars, and had to bite my tongue so I wouldn’t curse within earshot of the young mother I’d seen come in with her three little ones following behind her like ducklings just a few moments prior. I muttered under my breath.

“Space was way too small, sustained minor injuries. Thumbs down. Would not recommend.”

A little voice rang out from the handicapped/baby changing stall. “Mama, dat lady is talkin’ to you.”

Then the mother. “I don’t think she’s talkin’ to me, darlin’.”

“Den who?”

“Silas, please do hush up.”

“But Mama…”

“SILAS. HUSH UP NOW.”

Perhaps my ‘mutter’ volume setting needed adjusting. I stuffed my dirty clothes into my messenger bag, exited the stall, washed my face, brushed my teeth and then my hair. I thought about braiding it again, but didn’t want to waste any more time so I put it back into a ponytail and walked out of the bathroom.

Tom’s change of clothing rested on top of his carryon, and he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one knee bent up so his foot rested against the tile behind him. His dark circles put mine to shame, and when he noticed I’d returned he gathered up his things and headed into the men’s room. My stomach rumbled, and I patted it lovingly.

“I can always count on you to remind me that I am indeed alive. And that I require regular maintenance.”

Frowning, I wondered if eating right before seeing a dead body was perhaps a downright terrible idea, then came to the conclusion that I didn’t give a fuck. If I puked, I puked. Wouldn’t be the first time, right? Lindor truffles. Totally worth it.

I yanked the dirty clothes out of my messenger bag and proceeded to stuff them in my suitcase. I lost my grip, and my black satin panties wound up on the floor. I snatched them up quickly, but the group of businessmen walking by gave me the side-eye nonetheless. After zipping them in securely, I plopped my ass down on the floor, leaned back against our luggage, grabbed the package of truffles out of my bag and dug in. As I dropped the first one in my mouth, I closed my eyes and pretended I was someone else, somewhere else. It was the first moment of genuine peace I’d had in what felt like forever, but was, in actuality, less than twenty-four hours. 

When my fingers felt all around the inside of the bag and came up empty, I sighed and opened my eyes. Tom was standing right in front of me, staring downward. I craned my neck so I could see his face and instantly regretted it. He was smiling faintly, but his eyes were full of shame, and a healthy dose of his own regret. I looked away and gathered up all the truffle wrappers, stuffed them back in the package, then rolled to one side and rose to a standing position from my knees. When I turned to walk to the garbage can, I noticed he’d held his hand out to help me up. I continued moving.

He spoke quietly. “Would you like to pick up the car now?”

I nodded, hanging back behind him and the cart as we made our way to the Enterprise rental desk. He’d put on a white V-neck, cargo shorts, and his running shoes. I watched him walk, focusing on the rhythmic motion of his calf muscles, counting the steps until we reached our destination. Sixty-eight. I turned my back as he took care of the details, observing the frenetic travelers pushing and pulling and shoving as they tried to reach their gates on time. Tom appeared at my side, keys in hand. I followed him out to the pickup area, where he stopped in front of a silver Kia Optima and opened the trunk. When I attempted to help him with the luggage, he shook his head and gently pulled the suitcase I’d picked up out of my hands. After closing the trunk, he returned the luggage cart to the door, then walked back to the vehicle.

“Maude, would you prefer to drive, or shall I?”

I thought for a moment. “Since I know my way around, I guess it makes more sense if I do.” He used the fob to unlock the doors, opened mine, then got in on the passenger side and put the key in the ignition. I got my iPod and auxiliary cord out of my messenger bag before tossing it into the back seat, then sat down behind the wheel. “Is music okay?”

He nodded as he pushed his seat way back and buckled his safety belt. I put mine on, plugged in the iPod, put it on shuffle and started the car. The stereo sounded amazing, and I cranked the bass up as far as it would go. Passages was thirteen miles from the airport, and traffic was backed up in many spots. I let myself get lost in the music and the ebb and flow of the car’s movement as it stopped, then moved. Stopped, then moved. I sped up when we hit a clear stretch, and when Cazzette’s ‘Blind Heart’ came on I sang along like I always did…at the top of my lungs and like no one was listening, completely oblivious to the fact that someone was.

You got me strung up like a puppet,  
Hung up on a thin, red line.  
You got me caught up in your loving,  
Stuck here in my love sick mind.  
And I’ve been trying to pick myself up off the floor.  
And I’d be lying say’n I don’t want you anymore.  
You got my blind heart holdin’ onto you.  
And I don’t where it’s going,  
Or what it will do.  
And I try to control it,  
But control is what I lose.  
You got my blind heart holdin’ onto you.  
Just let it be, Just let it be  
You’ve got my blind heart holdin’ onto you.  
You got my blind heart holdin’ onto you.  
I’m in pieces like a puzzle,  
Scattered all around this room.  
I need to put this back together,  
You twisted up my point of view.  
And I’ve been trying to pick myself up from the floor.  
And I’d be lying say'n’ I don’t want you anymore.  
You got my blind heart holdin’ onto you.  
And I don’t where it’s going,  
Or what it will do.  
And I try to control it,  
But control is what I lose.  
You got my blind heart holdin’ onto you.

I shook my head. “DAY-UM, that is a good fucking song.”

He cleared his throat, which made me jump and let go of the wheel for a second. If we weren’t going so fast I would have seriously considered diving out of the car. Just what I needed…the lyrics hit way too close to home, truthfully, but I didn’t want him to know that, nor anything I was thinking about him. Or not thinking about him. Thank you, iPod shuffle feature. Now go fuck yourself, won’t you? I hit the pause button.

“Whoops, sorry about that. Totally in the driving zone there.” I glanced in his direction. He’d put his sunglasses on at some point.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I love listening to you sing. Your voice is magnificent.”

“Thanks.” I turned off onto Dublin Street and looked for the compound. It was beautiful, a blend of urban modern and classic New Orleans architecture. I parked in the lot, and the car’s clock read 7:12. Twilight was approaching and the sky had begun to darken, as did my heart when I remembered what I was here to do.

That’s the thing about death. When someone dies, they leave us behind. And we go on. We still eat, drink, laugh, sing, dance, fuck and everything else that living beings do. In the midst of doing those living-being things, the specter of death rears its ugly head when we least expect it and we feel so, so guilty about going on. It seems inappropriate, disrespectful, gauche…you name it. But that’s what we’re supposed to do. Go on. Survive.

“Maude?” His voice, soft and filled with concern, snapped me out of my internal philosophizing.

I unbuckled my seat belt, grabbed my bag out of the back, opened the door and stepped out of the car. He did the same. I shut my door, his followed. I pressed the fob and set the alarm and began walking down the sidewalk. He darted in front of me, then turned to face me, sunglasses gone, eyes shining in the orange glow of the outdoor lighting.

“Whatever you need, I’m here.”

All I could do was nod. He remained at my side until we reached the entrance, then opened and held the door for me. I closed my eyes for a moment to steady myself, then passed through and into the lobby. The woman seated behind the front desk had black hair, pulled into a top knot, and was wearing a floral print sleeveless dress. As I approached, couldn’t decide whether I wanted her to be Ms. Fiore or not. I placed both hands on the counter, which was just a bit higher than my waist.

“Hi. I’m Maude Gallagher…”

The woman stood, scorn blatantly displayed on her face, and held out her hand. “Ms. Gallagher, I’m so very glad you were able to make it. I’m Angelica Fiore.”

I took it and shook, perhaps squeezing just a bit too hard. “Oh, I’m so very glad as well. Do you need my information now or afterward?”

She handed me a clipboard. “You can go on over to the waiting area and fill this out while I page our orderly, Darius. He’ll take you to your Momma.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tom staring at me, and I felt like whacking the woman in the head with the clipboard. Repeatedly. “That sounds just perfect, Ms. Fiore. Thank you so much.”

I sat in one of the wing-back chairs while Tom wandered around, inspecting all the photographs and paintings that decorated the waiting room. The paperwork was tedious, but uncomplicated, and I’d completed it and turned it in several minutes before an elderly African-American man in white scrubs joined us. His curly hair was close cropped and snow white, his eyes an almost impossible shade of sage green that sparkled with the vibrancy of a much younger man. He extended his hand to help me up, and as I stood he closed his other hand over the top of mine.

“Ms. Gallagher, my name is Darius Cooper. I’m so sorry for your loss, honey.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cooper.”

He laughed. “That’s my daddy’s name. You just call me Darius.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Darius. And please, call me Maude.”

Tom came over to introduce himself. “Hello Darius, I’m Tom.”

Darius proffered a hand for Tom to shake. “Hello there, Tom. Nice to meet you both.” His expression changed, becoming somber. “I’ll take you down to what we call the rest area in a few so you can confirm Mary’s identity, but I wanted to give you a little heads up as to what you’re gonna see, alrighty?”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

He patted my shoulder. “I know, this isn’t an easy thing to do, honey. It’s not easy for me and heck, I ain’t even family. Ms. Fiore told me you hadn’t seen her in quite some time, and I figure if I tell you what to expect it’ll be less of a shock. Mary passed from alcoholic liver cirrhosis, and that causes jaundice, so her skin’s turned yellow. She’s very, very thin too. Probably doesn’t look a thing like she used to.”

Tom had moved close enough to me so our shoulders touched.

“Thank you, Darius. I had no idea what was waiting for me, and knowing that makes me feel a little better. Much appreciated.”

“You’re welcome, honey. Just let me know when you’re ready and…”

“I’d like to get this over with, so if it’s okay with you, let’s go now.”

He turned around. “Good on you. Right this way, folks.”

I followed him down the hallway, Tom a few steps behind me, until he stopped in front of a door labeled ‘Cold Chamber Room’. He opened it, then held it for me. As Tom entered, I spun around to face him.

“I’d prefer to do this alone, please.”

He frowned, but turned to leave, then looked at me over his shoulder. “I’ll be right out here in case you need anything.”

He closed the door behind him, and I watched as Darius went over to one of six metal doors, opened it, and slid out a slab. The body was covered head to toe, and he motioned for me to come closer. He had a hand on the sheet’s edge and it felt like my heart was going to pound out of my chest when I realized what came next.

“I’m gonna remove the sheet now, alrighty?”

I nodded, and he pulled it up and back towards the end of the slab. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Or what I felt. Nothing.

Her skin was indeed yellow, a deep but somehow bright shade that almost glowed. Like spicy mustard. The bones were clearly visible through her skin, cheeks hollow and eyes sunken, her stomach so bloated it made her appear to be eight months pregnant. Her face was still…hers…just aged beyond belief and reason. The only thing that was the same was her hair, still black and straight. That was what triggered me, all the terrible memories rising to the surface, threatening to drown me all over again. The hate I felt for her, the longing for the mother I’d never had, and a hundred other emotions passed through me and it seemed like time itself had come to a halt and that I’d be frozen here, forever in this moment, with this…this…monster.

As I stared at her, I remembered that she wasn’t here anymore. This was just the shell she’d squatted in for fifty-five years, taking up space that shouldn’t have ever been hers. She was dead. Gone. Forever and ever. And I’d never have to hear her voice again, reminding me of every flaw and every mistake and everything I wasn’t but was supposed to have been. Reminding me that everything was my fault. Everything.

Darius asked me, quietly, to confirm that the body before me was indeed that of Mary Bonaventura. I nodded emphatically as I signed the form he’d handed me.

“Yes, it is. And my god, I am SO glad she’s dead.”

He reached over her and patted my shoulder again as I gave him back the form. “I’m going to get this back to the desk. Would you like me to call a funeral home for you? They’ll come right on over and pick her up, then you can make the arrangements tomorrow.”

“Yes, please. Thank you. And I’m sorry for my outburst.”

He smiled at me. “Don’t you worry, honey. I won’t say a word. She wanted to use Estelle J. Wilson, if I recall correctly.”

“I think that’s it, yes. Thank you, again.”

“Happy to help. I’ll leave you alone with her. No need to do anything other than close the room door when you leave. I’ll take care of the rest after you go.”

I heard the door close behind me, and as I stared at what remained of her I was disgusted by the thought that this was my origin, that I spent nine months growing in that body. That part of her would always be inside me, inexorably woven into the fabric of my DNA. And would that DNA, in conjunction with all the damage she’d inflicted upon me that I could never seem to repair, result in my winding up just like her in the end? Dying alone in a strange place, my actions having alienated everyone who’d ever loved me, with no one to comfort me as I left this life, my light flickering, then finally winking out as I descended into an eternity of darkness.

I shuddered, whispering as if it were a secret I didn’t want her to hear. “That’s not what I want. Not. What. I. Want. I don’t want to end up like you. I don’t want to be…alone.”

The sensation of something touching my lower back made my flesh crawl, and I turned my head slowly, afraid of what I’d find. It was Tom, standing behind me, his hand warm and real. He spoke only two words, his voice low, heavily laden with emotion.

“You’re not.”

Fighting back tears at his sentiment, I stepped forward, turned around and walked out the door. I hadn’t broken down and wept yet, and though I realized I likely would at some point, it sure as shit wasn’t going to be here, of all places. In front of her. Halfway back to the lobby I noticed that I didn’t hear any footsteps other than my own, and when I looked behind me Tom wasn’t there. I threw my hands up in the air.

“What the fuck?” I trudged back towards the Cold Chamber Room, peeking around the door frame. He was standing over her, facing the door, motionless. Staring. I stepped inside.

“Tom?”

He looked up at me, jaw set, and in his eyes I saw…clarity. Resolve. And strength.

He gestured to her body. “This isn’t what I want, either. I don’t want to end up like her. I don’t want to be alone. Not anymore. Not since you came into my life.” He strode in my direction and came to rest directly in front of me. “Maude, I don’t expect it to excuse what I’ve done to you, all those reprehensible…those horrific things I said… but if you’re still willing to listen, I..I want to tell you everything. Even if what I reveal means…losing…” His breath hitched. “Losing you. Because as you said, if I don’t, losing you is a certainty. At least this way there’s a chance. So I’m going to face my fear, take that chance and hope beyond hope that knowing my truth will result in you choosing to accept me for who I really am, in spite of all the mistakes I’ve made.”

I nodded to indicate that I was, indeed, still willing to listen, then turned to leave the room. He followed, and as we left the hospice he walked in step with me. I glanced over at him as we reached the car, and the slight smile he gave me was sad, and fragile, but with the tiniest bit of hope visible if one looked carefully enough. I smiled back, and wondered if he saw those same things in mine. 

******************************  
The six mile drive from the hospice to the hotel was mostly spent in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I hadn’t seen Tom eat anything over the course of the day, and asked if he wanted to stop for something. He said he didn’t quite feel up to it, but if I was hungry to please feel free to do so. I wasn’t, so we continued on.

The Prytania Park Hotel was small, by big-city hotel standards, with only sixty rooms. Free parking was provided, and I pulled into a space, then opened my door. “Should we check in first and then come back for the bags, do you think?”

He nodded, then exited the car and came around to my side, hand extended to assist me with climbing out. I accepted, the depth of my physical exhaustion revealing itself now that my adrenaline had faded considerably.

The hotel lobby was on the ‘modern’ side of the hotel, and our room was on that side as well. While Tom retrieved our keycards I went out to the car with the valet, who loaded all our luggage onto his cart and said it would be up to our room ‘in a jiffy’. We were on the second floor, and the room was lovely, beige with light green accents and distressed whitewashed furniture. A white spiral staircase led to the loft with the second queen bed, and the bathroom was on the main floor area directly underneath it. As promised, the valet knocked on the door only moments after we’d arrived. He placed our luggage off to the side near a small desk, and Tom handed him a twenty dollar bill as a tip. After closing the door, he sat down at the end of the bed, ran his hands through his hair and stared at me as I dragged the desk chair over and sat down in front of him.

His hands were shaking badly as he spoke. “I feel like this is…it’s just…well, wrong, me adding to your burden after what the past twenty-four hours have already placed upon your shoulders.”

I shrugged. “I asked you to do this, remember?”

“Yes, and my deplorable behavior last night was the catalyst for that. The first time you needed me to be there for you, and I…”

I raised a hand to stop him, and the harshness and volume of my voice surprised us both. “NO, Thomas. Not that. Not now. After. ”

He blanched, then nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry, Maude.” His gaze settled on the floor, then rose to meet mine. “I guess I’ll just dive right in, then. I don’t mind if you stop me to ask questions as we go, but if you’d prefer not to that’s fine as well.”

He reached out for my hand, hesitated, pulled it back, swallowed and began.

“I’d imagine you already know the basics of my background.” I nodded. “As a child, my home life was, well, quite wonderful. We were blessed, having everything we needed and more, a house full of love and laughter. With a good bit of sibling rivalry mixed in, of course.” He smiled, reminiscing, then sadness transformed his expression, like a dark cloud passing in front of the bright summer sun.

“One Saturday afternoon when I was thirteen, my parents called my sisters and me into the dining room, sat us down, and informed us that they were divorcing. It was completely out of the blue, as far as I was concerned. No signs of cracks in their relationship, no rows, nothing. No reason was given, other than the generic ‘Sometimes parents just can’t live together any longer, but we both still love you very much and we’ll always be a family.’ line. And just like that…” He snapped his fingers. “Everything changed. Our family shattered like a glass that’s fallen from someone’s hand, crashing on the tiled kitchen floor, pieces flying off in all different directions. And I knew nothing would ever be the same again.” 

He paused, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling from his mouth.

“I was devastated. And then, I was unceremoniously shipped off to board at Eton.” He shook his head. “I know that sounds ridiculous, because being able to attend such a prestigious educational establishment is an incredible privilege that one should be grateful for, but it wasn’t planned and I couldn’t help but feel that it happened because my parents no longer wanted me around. Which, in turn, made me believe that I was, somehow, the reason for their divorce. It rewired my thinking, making me believe that because I’d broken apart their marriage, I would always be unworthy and undeserving of everything and anything good, especially love. The questions I asked of myself were endless. What had I done wrong? Why hadn’t I tried harder? Was I a bad son? If I changed my ways, would they get back together? They repeated in my head, day after day, beating me down.”

Another breath, his hands on his neck.

“The summer after my first year at Eton, I asked my mother how I could be a better son so her and my father would be able to get back together. I’ll never forget the look on her face, and how she took me in her arms as I wept, assuring me that their divorce had nothing to do with me whatsoever, that it was between the two of them, and them only. That moment was the point where the seeds of our mother/son relationship finally sprouted, grew, and took root. Her strength, her honesty, her fearlessness in the face of such profound loss and change…it amazed and inspired me. It still does.”

He smiled as he thought of her, then frowned. “My father was a different story. He spent every spare moment he had at his ancestral home in Scotland, and when I did see him I knew I was nothing more than an inconvenience he was forced to endure. A stoic through and through, he could never relate to me, always put off when I displayed any emotion, no matter if it was enthusiasm, anger or sorrow. When I decided to pursue acting, his comment was ‘Why would you want to pretend to be someone else for a living instead of being your own man?’”

“The question he posed has been a major source of anxiety for me ever since. He made me doubt myself, made me wonder if the reason why I’m an actor is because, in actuality, Thomas William Hiddleston really isn’t anyone. He’s just an empty shell with no worth, no real value, continually being filled up by temporary, fictional personalities so no one’s ever the wiser.”

His eyes were cast downward as he fidgeted with his hands. “When I was twenty-one, he saw the Gathering Storm and called to tell me how proud he was, inviting me to spend the coming weekend with him in Scotland. It was a nice gesture, and I accepted, but I wasn’t certain if he was proud of me, or proud of himself for fathering a son who’d portrayed Randolph Churchill. That Saturday, he headed into town to pick up some groceries and left me to my own devices. Wanting to jot down a few notes about an upcoming project but too lazy to go down the hill to my car and get my idea notebook, I decided to rummage around in his study for some paper. At the very bottom of one of his desk drawers was a pile of letters, still in their envelopes, arranged neatly and rubber-banded together, all bearing my father’s name and Scotland address. By nature, I’m not at all a snoop, but something compelled me to take a closer look.”

Hands now gripping the bed coverlet, his jaw shifted to one side, teeth clenched. “They were love letters, and photos, from the woman who’d been his personal assistant from 1988 through 1994. I would have known her anywhere, as I had quite the crush on her when I was ten or so. She was gorgeous, buxom, with long blonde hair and legs that wouldn’t quit. And only thirteen years older than me, which would have made her twenty-five when my parents divorced. It was all right there, in front of me. Her asking when he was going to leave my mother, her apologizing for approaching my mother and telling her about the affair, her glee when the divorce was final, her wanting to know when he was going to marry her, then…nothing. The realization that my father had been unfaithful, that my mother had been confronted by his mistress, that he’d obviously terminated his relationship with her but kept the letters she’d sent as some sort of twisted testament to his virility…I was furious, and I knew I needed to be gone before he returned because I wasn’t sure I could control myself, so I packed my things and drove home. Seeing my mother…not telling her I knew was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Knowing what she’d been through and how she’d managed to not just survive, but thrive…”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, then met my gaze. “I’ve never told that story before, Maude. To this day, neither of my parents have any idea that I know about my father’s dirty little secret. And to this day, I hate him for what he did. Something positive did come out of it, though…I promised myself I would always be open, and honest, in any relationship I was in. That I’d never, ever cheat. And it’s a promise I’ve kept, even when my partner hasn’t. Which brings me to the next part…why my life became so dark. Would you mind taking a break?”

I shook my head. He used the bathroom, got us both waters from his carryon bag, then sat back down.

“The day we first met, the woman I mentioned, the record executive? Her name is Jane.”

I nodded. “I know.”

He appeared surprised, but continued without comment. “We met at a party in June of 2013. She approached me, bought me a drink, and we hit it off. Her sense of humor was the thing that attracted me most. We dated, very casually at first, and a few weeks in I invited her to accompany me to Wimbledon. It was such an amazing day, and I realized I’d developed some rather strong feelings for her. The way she reacted to the negativity that permeated social media in the days that followed presented me with a side of her I hadn’t seen before, and I wasn’t sure I liked it, but I told myself it was just the stress talking and decided to wait it out for a while. Once I agreed to keep our relationship private, things went back to normal. We avoided public outings together, but did attend private parties and events within our social circles. Mainly my social circle.”

He paused, squeezed his eyes shut, opened them and continued. “Right before I began the press tour for the Dark World, I told her I loved her. She smiled and told me how sweet I was, but didn’t echo my sentiment. After being on the road for less than seventy-two hours, I got a frantic call from Ben. I’d never heard him so upset…he was apologizing, but I had no idea what for. Turned out he’d met Jane at a bar, gotten piss drunk, slept with her, and discovered that we’d dated when he looked her up online the day after. He confronted her, and she confessed to being my girlfriend.”

I could feel the left side of my mouth curling up into an angry sneer. He looked at me, eyes welling with tears.

“I told him there was no reason to apologize as there was no way he could have known, then called her. She said that she’d just come out of a long term relationship that ended badly prior to meeting me, and when I told her I loved her it brought back a slew of bad memories which she attempted to assuage by consuming copious amounts of alcohol. She said she was very sorry, that she’d been so drunk she had no idea what she was doing, and begged me to forgive her. I was crushed…but she was the first woman I’d cared about in what seemed like forever, so I gave her a second chance. When I came home after The Dark World premieres were finished, she began staying at my flat regularly. During my Coriolanus run, things between us were…wonderful, actually. She was there waiting for me every night, we’d have some wine, then make lo…damn.”

He leaned in to look into my eyes, gently placing a hand on my knee. “Sorry.”

I wanted to punch something after hearing him use those words in reference to someone other than me, but instead I took a deep breath, then let it out in a woosh. He swallowed hard, removed his hand and began speaking again.

“Filming for Crimson Peak stared in early February, right after I completed Coriolanus. We spoke daily while I was in Toronto, and I flew back to London for three days in mid-April to celebrate her birthday. The gift I’d chosen for her was a romantic two-week trip for two to Bora Bora in early June, the month of our one-year anniversary. I figured that it would be splendid to get away from everything for a bit and focus on each other before I’d be off again, first to film High Rise and then I Saw the Light. She’d never been and was ecstatic about going.”

He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling for thirty seconds or so, and when he returned it to its normal position he was white as a ghost.

“It was the middle of May when I arrived back in London from Toronto, and she asked if she could come right over as soon as I texted to tell her I’d landed. I knew something was amiss as soon as I looked at her…her expression could best be summed up as downright terrified. I asked what was wrong, and she informed me that her period was late. I calmed her down, went with her to the pharmacy to pick up a test, and she took it straight away. It was positive. I was over the moon, but she was a mess. I assured her I’d be there for her, and for the baby, in whatever capacity she needed me, which seemed to make her feel a bit more secure. She said she’d prefer if we waited to tell everyone until she’d seen a doctor and was past the twelve week mark, which was perfectly understandable and fine with me. The circumstances weren’t exactly what I’d always envisioned, and the timing was less than ideal since I’d be away so much during the pregnancy and right after the baby was born, but…having a child was something I’d wanted for so long, and suddenly, it was happening.”

He smiled wistfully as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Over the next two weeks, I decided that I was going to ask her to marry me while we were on vacation, and found what I thought was the perfect ring. I was so full of joy I felt I might burst. She was significantly less enthusiastic, as she was exhausted and nauseated most of the time. We’d been invited to a private gala celebrating music in movies and theater that took place the night before we were due to leave, and one of her artists was being honored, which was something she absolutely didn’t want to miss. I was hesitant, but she insisted she was feeling up to it, so off we went. I ran into Chris Martin, and we chatted for a good long while, during which Jane had gone off on her own to mingle and promote her client. When I caught up with her she was deep in conversation with Idris Elba. I knew he’d been playing some gigs as a DJ and having a blast with it, and he’d been on the fence for quite some time about finding a producer and releasing an album. It appeared they were getting on well, laughing loudly, both typing away on their phones as they exchanged info. I was thrilled for her because I knew signing him would be a huge boost for her company. Shortly thereafter, she got a text and told me she had an artist in the studio that wasn’t doing well and had to intervene. She left me at the party and said she wasn’t sure when she’d be home.”

He stopped, put his head between his knees, breathed in and out ten times, then continued.

“She didn’t come in until after five AM, hopped in the shower and slept until an hour before we needed to be at the airport. I didn’t give it a second thought as I’d been to the studio with her a few times and knew musicians and singers kept very odd hours, and that sessions often take longer than anyone could possibly anticipate. Bora Bora was gorgeous, and we spent every day on the beach relaxing…well, I relaxed, anyway. The entire time she seemed anxious, distant and distracted, checking her phone obsessively, telling me she hated being away from her office for so long because no one did anything correctly when she wasn’t there. She was also feeling poorly again, plagued by dizziness and nausea, so much so that there was no…intimacy…during our entire trip. It subsided a bit on the last night we were there, so we went out for dinner, and the meal was so incredible I asked the waiter to send our compliments to the chef and wound up getting invited to see the back of the house. We posed with the staff, and you know what happened next. She lost her shit on me in the hotel room when she read that we were being referred to as Mr. and Mrs. Hiddleston online and saw the negative comments that ensued. She didn’t even speak to me until the next morning, so I decided to give her some time to recover and wait until after we returned home to propose. Upon disembarking from the plane in London, she requested that I drop her off at her own flat so she could get some rest. I complied.”

He took several large gulps of water, wiping his mouth with his hand as he set the bottle on the floor.

“I didn’t hear from her for two days. She called me at eleven PM, said she was sorry she’d been out of touch and asked if it was all right if she came over. I threw caution to the wind and determined I’d propose right then and there. I put on a suit, stuffed the ring box in my pocket, lit some candles, dimmed the lights, opened a bottle of sparkling grape juice and waited for her to arrive. When I heard her key in the door I got down on one knee right in front of it, and as soon as she walked in I asked her to marry me. She closed the door behind her, laughed and said ‘Oh, Tom, are you really that daft? ’. I tilted my head like a confused puppy. She laughed again, saying ‘Thomas, I came over here to end things with you.’ I asked why, frozen in place, still on one knee as she sighed and continued. ‘I’m not the sort of person that bases my choice of partner on feelings. I study, I evaluate, and I opt for whomever will aid me most in fulfilling my professional aspirations at that particular point in time. The first night we met, when I bought you that drink, I planned that. I decided to date you because I thought that, based on your degree of fame at the time, becoming your girlfriend would be beneficial to my career. Then Wimbledon happened. Deciding to keep our relationship out of the public eye worked for me because the people that mattered, the ones we’d encounter socially, would still know we were together and that was really the point of the thing. Comic-Con had everyone talking about you, and talking to me. Exactly what I wanted. I figured it might be prudent to stay with you until it was time for you to leave to do the press tour for the Dark World, though I was already weighing my options for who’d be next. Ben seemed perfect, but I grossly underestimated the depth of your mutual friendship. So, I pretended it was a mistake and begged for your forgiveness because having you was better than having no one. Also, I had an inkling that your name would be on everyone’s lips once Coriolanus started. And it was. And so was mine. Again, exactly what I wanted. Soon after you left to film Crimson Peak, the chatter ceased and I knew it would be more of the same for the rest of the year, but when I took into account that I Saw the Light might earn you an Oscar nod it seemed that if remained your significant other until then it might pay off in spades. Plus, you’re very easy on the eyes and dynamite in bed…not something I was willing to give up until someone better came along, that’s for sure.’”

He bit his lip, wrung his hands, and I could see his pulse pounding on the side of his neck.

“I stood and told her that I thought she’d loved me. She said ‘Well, I suppose I did, after a fashion. But I could never love you enough that I’d be willing to have my every move, my very existence, displayed and dissected in view of the entire world. The Bora Bora picture debacle reminded me of the potential harm your particular brand of fame could cause me, and it helped me decide that it was time to move on. It’s just not worth it for me, Tom. You’re not worth it. I want someone more mature, a seasoned professional, with a less rabid fan base that won’t sully my reputation with baseless, personal criticisms. Someone who’s involved in my industry and can actually enhance my reputation.’ With that, I just…knew. Where she’d been the night before we left on vacation, why she’d been on her phone constantly and why she hadn’t been intimate with me while we were there. The real reason she was in my flat, breaking my heart and shattering my soul. Idris. I asked her if she’d slept with him, and her response was ‘Christ, finally. Took you long enough to figure it out.’”

He’d begun to cry, softly, took an unsuccessful stab at pushing down his sorrow, then continued.

“I asked her how this would factor into our parenting plans. She rolled her eyes at me, and said ‘Thomas, there’ve never been any parenting plans, because we’re not going to be parents. The day after we learned that I was pregnant, I phoned up the clinic and made an appointment to have an abortion performed. It’s for tomorrow morning, actually. I would have done it sooner, but I didn’t want to miss out on the chance to go to Bora Bora.’ When I asked if she had intended to tell me about it, she shrugged and said ‘I was just going to pretend I’d miscarried.’”

Crying turned to sobbing, and he tried to speak through it. “I begged her not to do it. I pleaded with her, told her I’d assume full responsibility for the baby, that I’d raise it entirely on my own. I offered to pay her to carry it to term. She just shook her head and told me there was no way she would chance ruining things with Idris, and that he obviously wouldn’t want her if she was pregnant with another man’s child. He had no idea, and she said that if I told him about it she’d deny it and blame it on my being jealous. And that was that. She took my key off her ring, set it on the kitchen counter and walked out the door. I spent the night in my suit, sitting, then pacing, as the candles burned down and out and night became morning. I watched the clock, wondering if the moment had passed yet…the moment when the child I’d always wanted would become a child I would never have. At eleven thirty-seven, she texted me. ‘It’s done. I gave a blood sample and had tissue extraction done for a DNA test in case you wanted one. They just need your sample to complete.’ I immediately went to the clinic, still in my suit, wrinkled and unshaven. Three days later the results were back. 99.9% probability that I was the father. And a 100% certainty that the child I fathered would never…be.”

My hand flew up to cover my mouth in a vain attempt to muffle an anguished gasp, my eyes down and staring at the pattern on the carpet. I couldn’t look at him. I’d fall apart. His shadow moved, the bed creaked and I saw his feet walk in the direction of the bathroom. I heard the door close, followed immediately by a scream of grief and rage blended together to make a sound I never, ever wanted to hear again. Then, a thud. And another. And another, until my count reached seven. Brief silence, and, finally, running water. I forced myself to look up when I heard the door open, and he stepped out and back into the room, his shirt off and wrapped around his bleeding hand. I rose, wanting to go to him, but he shook his head.

“Please don’t. The part I dread having to tell you is next, and I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve.”

I sat back down, and he grabbed a fresh T-shirt out of his suitcase and pulled it over his head as he sank back on to the edge of the bed.

“After Jane…and…fuck…I decided I was done with love and started drinking heavily. Out every night, waking up in strange places and not knowing how I’d gotten there, sometimes alone, most often not alone. High Rise began filming in July, and while I was on location I tried to scale back, settling for drinking alone in my hotel room at night until I passed out.”

He removed the shirt from his hand, then re-wrapped it when he saw the bleeding hadn’t stopped.

“After that project was completed, it was off to work with Rodney Crowell. The drinking continued, and everyone just assumed I was going method to play Hank. Rodney knew better, though. He could just…see it. Thankfully, that didn’t deter him and for a good bit when we were working alone prior to filming I was able to lose myself in the music and ease off the booze. We went to Shreveport to start filming, and the scenes that required Rodney’s presence and an ‘audience’ were shot first. Lots of extras were necessary, and that’s how I met…Claudia Heidrich.”

There was something about the way he’d enunciated her name that made me incredibly uneasy, which made me feel like a fucking idiotic, lovesick schoolgirl.

“She followed me around the set, telling me how much she admired me and loved my work, flirting endlessly. She was a beautiful girl, but she was just that…a girl. Barely old enough to drink, I thought. Not someone I’d chose to be involved with. On the final day of extras filming, she tracked me down to tell me that the casting director thought her performance was so good that he’d offered her an actual role as one of the women Hank cheats on Audrey with. That night, a huge party was held to thank the extras for their participation. I saw it as an opportunity to get royally fucked up, and Claudia saw is as chance to continue her pursuit, finally kissing me in a dark corner of the bar, then crawling under the table to give me a blowjob.”

My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to prevent the visual from entering my head, but to no avail.

Tom cleared his throat. “Maude, if you want me to stop at any time, just say the word and I will.”

I opened my eyes and motioned for him to continue.

“For the next week, we’d go out, I’d get smashed, and then go back to her hotel room. I never stayed the night. After we filmed her scene, I expected that she’d go back to her apartment in Los Angeles. She didn’t. The casting director didn’t seem to mind her hanging around the set, and I wondered if the reason she’d gotten an actual role had very little to do with her acting abilities. The following week, she took me to The Lagniappe Chateau. I hadn’t a clue what I was in for until we got there…it’s a swinger’s club. There were strictly enforced confidentiality rules, no phones, cameras or recording devices allowed, as well as a code of conduct. Everyone had their own purpose for being there. Some wanted to swap partners, others wanted threesomes, and there was even an area for group orgies. I was hesitant at first, but I’d had more than a few drinks and after watching everyone around us going at it, it was relatively easy for her to convince me to fuck her in the hot tub. We were there as often as possible during the rest of the shoot, participating in every permissible scenario, and eventually we began bringing people back to the hotel so we could participate in activities that weren’t permissible under the club’s rules. Like consuming excessive amounts of alcohol and taking MDMA.”

My entire body was like a live wire, a constant, nerve-jarring current. His face was unreadable, but his hands were shaking again, much worse than they had been earlier.

“By day, I was actor Tom, trying to be true to Hank’s story, giving it everything I had. It was much easier to live in his head than it was in mine. By night, I was…I don’t know what I was. Lost. Seeking solace where none could ever be found, dulling my emotions with alcohol, trying to replace pain with pleasure derived from primal, physical sensations. Claudia decided to introduce me to some elements of BDSM, and after a single session I made it abundantly clear I that such things were not for me. She wasn’t pleased, as it was something she craved, but I told her to take it or leave it. After I Saw the Light wrapped, she invited me to come with her to LA for the next two weeks. I didn’t have any plans until Christmas, so I went, though I insisted upon staying in a hotel room by myself. Through Club XTC, we found some new ‘friends’, and I continued to drink myself into a stupor day after day. My memories of those two weeks are hazy at best, all of it a blur of warm bodies and the acrid smell of human sweat mingled with the musky scent of sex. There is, though, one experience I’m able to recall quite clearly.”

He stood up and began pacing.

“Two days before I intended to leave for London, I woke up in my hotel room with her beside me. She was naked, lying on her side, uncovered. There were bruises on her neck, bite marks all over her breasts, welts and bruising on her buttocks and the back of her legs, and a scabbed-over bite mark on the inside of the thigh that was visible to me. I shook her awake to ask her what the hell had happened, as I the last thing I remembered was the couple we’d invited over showing up. She smiled and thanked me for the most amazing night of her life. I asked her why she was thanking me and who the fuck had done this to her, and she laughed and said ‘You did, Thomas.’ I didn’t believe her, so she showed me the video that our companions had shot using her phone…and there I was, whipping her, caning her, biting her so hard that I drew blood, calling her a slut and a whore the entire time I was fucking her, then nearly choking the life out of her as she came.”

My stomach rolled yet again, not because of what he’d done, but because imagining how it had made him feel was…too much. Just too much. He didn’t, or couldn’t, look my way and kept pacing.

“I told her that I would have never, ever done those things if I hadn’t been blackout drunk, and that though I took full responsibility for my actions because it was my own fucking fault, I still couldn’t believe she’d encouraged and allowed me to participate in something she knew very well was completely unacceptable to me. Alarm bells began going off in my head, and it dawned on me that she’d had someone film it all. I scrolled through her phone and found at least another twenty videos, the oldest dating back ten days. I asked her how long she’d been doing it, and she shrugged and said ‘Since we started bringing people back to the hotel in Shreveport, Tom. I had to move the rest to my computer because my phone doesn’t have enough storage space. I thought it would be fun to watch them together later on.’ I told her we were done, asked her to leave and, when she finally did after an hour of begging me to let her stay and telling me that she was sorry for filming us without my permission and that she loved me, I hopped the next available flight out of LA and went home to London. Then the real fun began. First came the I know you love me texts…and I never said or indicated that I had, mind you…followed by the fuck off and die texts, and then the calls started and wouldn’t stop. Over the course of the next three days, she called me two-hundred and sixteen times. Most were hang ups, but she left around fifty voicemails. The messages got more and more bizarre…she threatened to kill herself, she threatened to tell my family what I’d done, and then she threatened to post every single video of us she had online. For some reason, that made me realize how fucking stupid I’d been, and how much trouble I was in. I freaked out, then called Luke and told him everything. He instructed me to change my number and had his attorney contact her to offer her a settlement if she signed an NDA, which she initially refused. Once the sum reached a million dollars, she changed her tune. Under the terms, she has to pay back the money if anything is ever published, but that’s very difficult to enforce, and, frankly, I think she’s crazy enough that it doesn’t matter to her.”

He stopped pacing, sat down on the bed, leaning in to look into my eyes as he took my hands in his.

“And so I live with that hanging over my head every single day, always wondering when the proverbial other shoe is going to drop and she’s going to post even just a single still image from one of the videos and ruin…everything. And if you’re with me, Maude, it’ll always be hanging over your head, too.”


	17. Chapter 17

TITLE OF STORY: Your Light in the Mist  
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 17  
AUTHOR: http://maevecurrywrites.tumblr.com/  
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom  
GENRE: Humor/Romance/Angst  
FIC SUMMARY: Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Mature for profanity, erotica. Triggers in this chapter include: mention of BDSM  
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Your burning questions are answered. I hope. :P Lots of feels. Lots. Of. Feels.

YOUR LIGHT IN THE MIST CHAPTER INDEX AND INFORMATION PAGE

It was my turn to pace. I pulled my hands from his, got up, moved the desk chair out of my way and began walking back and forth across the room, alternately rubbing my chin and chewing on the knuckle of my index finger. I glanced his way on one pass, and he was staring at me, confusion, pain and trepidation in his eyes. There was so much to say that I didn’t know where to fucking start, but I had to start somewhere. My business acumen kicked in, overriding my desire to resolve things between us.

I stopped in front of him, my arms crossed. “Are you comfortable answering questions about the Claudia situation?”

He nodded.

“Good. First…the video you saw. Did you view it in its entirety?”

He looked down at the floor. “Yes. Twice. I still couldn’t believe it was me the first time through.”

“The other couple…would you say they were active participants?”

He nodded again.

“How so? Explain, please.”

He looked up at me, brow furrowed, grimacing. “Are you sure you want to hear this?’

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I don’t particularly want to hear it, but I need to hear it.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. The man was the one who filmed, and the woman orchestrated…things.”

I grabbed the chair and sat back down in front of him. “Thomas, we’re kind of way past putting up any sort of front in the name of decorum, propriety or avoiding jealousy, don’t you think? There’s a legitimate reason why I’m asking, so please don’t make me drag it out a bit at a time. How did it all work? Did Claudia ask you to do…”

He put his head in his hands. “They brought all of the…equipment…with them. Referred to it as their toy chest. The woman began by asking Claudia if she’d been disobedient. She said yes. The woman asked her if she thought she needed to be punished. She said yes. The woman asked her if she wanted the cat. She said yes. The woman handed me a cat ‘o nine tails and directed me to punish Claudia with it. And that’s how it went for the duration.”

“And who was in control of how much, how many, how long…who was the one who said stop?”

“Claudia. Except for…the end. The woman was watching her face, and her hands. When she saw whatever it was she was looking for she grabbed my arm and said ‘enough’.”

“And you stopped and removed your hands from around her neck at that point?”

He lifted his head, and from his expression I could tell he thought I believed him to be some sort of horrific monstrosity. He returned his gaze to the carpet, his voice low, and quiet. Defeated. “Yes.”

All business Maude stepped out for a moment, shoved aside by the…whatever I’d become since I’d let this man into my life, my heart and my soul. Human, maybe? I got up and put my hands on his shoulders. His gaze remained fixed downward. I put one hand under his chin, raising his head, attempting to force him to look at me. He cast his eyes sideways.

“Tom. Look at me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because. What must you think of me after…I…what I’ve…then, and now to you…and I…I…”

I let go of him and stepped back, shaking my head. “This isn’t about what I think. It’s about you understanding that you did absolutely nothing wrong that night, Tom. And based on what you’ve told me, not only was everything consensual, it was most likely coordinated in advance.”

His mouth dropped open. “Are you…do you think she planned it?”

“Logic tells me that people don’t typically make a habit of bringing along those sort of items unless they’re certain the other parties participate in or are interested in learning about that particular lifestyle, or if someone specifically requests that they do so. Pretty obvious that Claudia let them know what she wanted to happen. I’m assuming she was responsible for arranging…appointments?”

He nodded, staring at me, mouth still agape.

My pacing resumed. “And, speaking from personal experience, it is blatantly obvious that you’re significantly impaired and very much under the influence when you’re in the midst of an alcohol induced blackout. She had to have known…and even if all she knew was that you were drunk, she took advantage of it. Of you. If anyone should feel guilty about what happened that night, it should be her, not you. She got what she wanted, in spite of the fact that getting it meant you doing something she knew you didn’t want to do. That’s wrong. And seriously fucked up.”

He stood and approached me. I turned and walked in the other direction, then faced him.

“Want to know something else I think is seriously fucked up?”

“Me?”

“Besides you. And welcome to the fucking club, by the way.”

He smiled at me, and I smiled back, both fading quickly when we remembered what we were in the middle of.

I cleared my throat. “What is seriously fucked up is the fact that she got a million fucking dollars out of this. How the fuck did THAT happen? Please tell me Luke doesn’t still use that attorney.”

“He doesn’t, actually. Why?”

“Well that’s a bright spot. Yay. I’ll get to the why in a minute. Do you know if all of the texts and voicemails she sent you were archived?”

“Yes, they were. I even have the old phone still. I didn’t delete anything.”

“Hallelujah. I know she admitted to you verbally that she had been recording you without your knowledge…did she happen to do that in any of the texts or messages, by chance?”

He nodded. “Several times. Text and voicemail.”

“And how about something along the lines of not only posting the photos online, but doing so to ruin your career, that sort of thing?”

“Yes. She said she’d make my life a living hell and make sure I never worked again.”

“FUCKING A!” He was staring at me, head tilted to the side. I moved closer to him. “Do you know what country was chosen for enforceability in the NDA, and in what court system?”

“The United States, California courts.”

I gritted my teeth. “So how far, exactly, was this attorney’s head up his own ass?”

He frowned, but didn’t answer.

I waved my hand and shook my head. “Yet another rhetorical question. Tom, she admitted to taping you without your knowledge. And you have proof. In her own voice, and in her own words, sent from her own phone. She violated the California Penal Code…I think it’s statute 632 but I’m not positive. It’s part of the Invasion of Privacy act. California is a ‘two party’ state when it comes to audio recordings of confidential communication…in situations and locations wherein you’d normally expect that whatever was said would remain private. Reasonable expectation of privacy. That’s what it’s called. All the parties involved must agree to being recorded. ALL THE PARTIES. If they don’t, it’s against the law. And audio that’s a component of a video is covered. Violations are a misdemeanor with a fine of up to $2500 and a year in jail. You can sue in civil court, too.”

He blinked at me.

I sat down. “In case you’re wondering why I know all this…early in 2014 I worked with a firm whose client experienced a similar issue, though he was the one who did the damage. I was mainly there to clean up the mess and help get his career back on track, but I had to review the NDA in place very carefully to make sure he remained in bounds. It quoted several statues that pertained to his situation specifically, some of which apply to yours as well, and I did some additional research because in my profession this sort of thing crops up way more that you’d ever expect. Anyway. What I’m saying is…I don’t know why Luke’s attorney didn’t check on any of this. I’m sure her attorney knew exactly what she was up against. Threatening to file criminal charges against her would have been an excellent bargaining chip and could have saved you…oh, I don’t know…a million fucking dollars or so.”

He frowned again as he sat back down on the bed. “If we went that route, she would have never signed the NDA and released everything right then. A slap on the wrist for her, but for me…”

“Ever hear the term ‘revenge porn’, Thomas?”

“Can’t say that I have. Do I want to know what it is?”

“You do. You most certainly do. That’s when someone publishes nude photos or videos of a person they used to be intimate with, without their consent, with an intent to cause serious emotional distress. And she certainly expressed intent by saying she wanted to make your life a living hell. California’s revenge porn law was passed in 2103, and again, her attorney would have known and informed her that if she posted even ONE item she’d be facing a disorderly conduct charge, which has a penalty of up to a $1000 fine and six months in jail. Per video or image. I’m sure the ones she filmed in California would be included, not so sure about those in New Orleans. But they passed a revenge porn bill there last month, if I recall correctly, so…do you see what I’m getting at here?”

He shrugged and shook his head.

I rolled my eyes again. “Thomas. She essentially extorted you to the tune of one million dollars…”

He held his hand up to interrupt me. “I don’t care about the money….”

“You should care about the money…you’re the one who worked hard for it. Not her. But I get your point. It seemed like nothing if it would all go away.”

His chin dropped to his chest. “Yes. But it didn’t. And it won’t.”

“Listen to me very carefully. I’d wager her intent dissipated once she found out she could go to jail. And even more so when she got a boatload of cash. But, if she is indeed crazy and rears her ugly head in your life again to threaten you, or worse, posts something, or everything, all you need to do is make a statement to the press. Keep it simple and straightforward…a former sexual partner filmed your encounters without your knowledge or consent in 2014, and when she confessed to doing so you terminated the relationship. A written version should be drafted too, so it can be posted across all your social media accounts in conjunction with the press statement. We’ll then file civil suits, and pursue criminal charges. At some point, all those texts and voicemails will be a matter of public record…and the press will be all over it. Plus, we’ll make sure there will be a constant stream of paparazzi following her wherever she goes.”

He raised his head, eyes meeting mine, and I thought I recognized the question in them.

“Yes, your career might take a hit if any of them are actually published. Or, it might not. Because you did nothing wrong. You were a single adult male, engaging in consensual sexual activities with other adults. Granted, there will be some people who don’t approve of the type of activities you chose to participate in, but the world will know Claudia obtained whatever material she releases without your permission. It won’t ruin you. We’ll spin it however we have to in order to prevent that from happening. You, with certainty, will not be the bad guy. You no longer need to worry about that other shoe. If it falls, it’s going to land on her head. Not yours.”

He spoke softly. “I don’t care about my career, either, Maude. It’s not important. It doesn’t matter. There’s only one thing I care about right now, the one thing that does matter to me. And that’s you.”

I looked down, avoiding his eyes, and saw that his clasped hands were shaking so much he was having a difficult time keeping them together, the end of the T-shirt still wrapped around the right one swinging back and forth like a pendulum. I raised my head to meet his gaze again. His eyes were brimming with tears, face twisted with sadness.

“Maude…last night…I…I need…I need to know. Did I…” A swallow. “Did I put my hands on you?”

My brow furrowed and my mouth dropped open. “No. No, you didn’t. I wouldn’t be here if you had.”

“Did I do anything to…make you…were you frightened of me? Were you afraid?”

“No. You got in my face, you were yelling and there was spit flying, but I wasn’t afraid of you, Tom.”

A sob escaped him and he buried his face in his hands as I continued.

“I’ll tell you what I did feel. Shock. Disappointment. Sorrow. Devastation. Disgust. Anger. Rage. And a hundred other things, including really, really stupid for believing that someone would ever love me. But more than anything else, I felt…lost. Lost and alone. Every word you said was like a knife in my heart, and all I wanted to do was disappear. Preferably into a gallon jug of vodka.”

I sat there, chin up, jaw set, waiting for him to look at me. He wept pitifully for a few more minutes, regained a modicum of control, then removed his hands from his face and took several deep breaths.

“Since I don’t remember saying any of those…things, I can’t provide you with a proper explanation as to why I said them, though I do believe I know the reason behind it all. But I can furnish rather clearly the details as to what went through my mind that night up until right after your phone call, if you would like to hear them.”

“Of course I’d like to hear the details. Kinda why I’m still sitting here.”

Another deep breath. “The moment Norman touched you, the wave of jealousy that washed over me…well, as it turns, out, it drowned me, in the end. I’ve never, ever in my life felt it so strongly before. And then came the fear. And then the anger. By the time he went to join his cast mates, I was certain that you wished you were with him and not me. And when you wouldn’t come out to the club with us, the thought that you were going to sneak off and see him instead popped into my head and wouldn’t stop haunting me. I had a few drinks to try and calm myself down, and then you called. When you mentioned an urgent schedule change, I lost my fucking mind completely and convinced myself that the two of you had fucked and that you were leaving me for him.”

I said not a word, silently berating myself for knowing full well that he was jealous as soon as he’d asked if I’d loved Norman and not addressing it right then and there. If I’d known what he’d been through, I would have done so, without question.

“All of it, I think, derived from and was deeply rooted in my experience with Jane. I worked with a therapist for a few months after I got back to London in December, and though I thought I had, I obviously haven’t gotten fully past the anger I feel towards her. Anger that I took out on you, Maude, because I succumbed to the dark, erroneous thoughts that plagued and clouded my mind. That what happened with her was happening to me all over again with you, that the only reason you were with me was because of what my name could do for your career. And there is no excuse for that. Nor for me. You opened your heart to me, let me in, trusted me, and I destroyed it all when instead of letting you know what I was feeling and talking through it with you, I allowed myself to become malignantly inebriated and uttered those eighteen sentences. That’s how many there were in your email. I read them over and over, committing them to memory so I’ll always remember how much damage my words can do, and that they’re the reason why I lost the love of my life.”

He broke down again and I watched him rock back and forth as he cried, toward me, then away, over and over. I listened to his gasps, his cries and his moans while my brain processed all the data it had been presented with over the past hour. Or was it two? I had no idea. When his intermittent articulation of ‘I’m so, so sorry’ evolved into a litany, I got up and sat next to him on the bed and rested my hand on his back.

“Tom? I…I…uh…I…oh, fuck me, I didn’t think this would be so hard to say…” 

He turned to look at me, face red and streaked with tears, his nose running, voice breaking as he spoke. “You…you don’t have to…I…I already know so you don’t…have to…”

I leaned in so our faces were inches apart, his eyes matte but for the shine the tears created, none of the usual light in them visible. My voice was strong, but soft, and I began rubbing his back.

“Thomas. I forgive you.”

His jaw dropped open, incredulous, brow furrowed as he breathed heavily. “You…you…you do?”

I snorted. “Believe me, no one’s more surprised to hear those words come out of my mouth than I am. I’m more of a cut you out of my life and dance on your grave kind of gal. But yeah. I do.” I stood up. “Because now, I understand why. And because you aren’t the only one to blame for this. We both are. If we weren’t such fucking morons we would have talked about what we’ve been through as soon as the words ‘I love you’ came tumbling out of our mouths. And I’m of the opinion that if we HAD done so, and I knew everything I now know about you and you knew everything you now know about me, last night would never have happened. Do you agree?”

He rose, wiped his nose on the T-shirt around his hand and nodded.

I pointed at him. “But Tom…if it ever happens again, I’m gone. There will be no contemplation, no discussion. Just the sound of the door slamming shut behind me. I’ve already wasted too many years of my life dealing with that kind of bullshit. I will NOT tolerate you treating me like that ever again. Understood?”

He nodded once more. “It will never happen again, Maude. Never.”

“Good. Though, let’s face it…our pasts have left us both badly wounded, and while the resulting scars may fade over time, they’ll never disappear. The damage that’s been done will always be a part of us, and I’m well aware that my issues, and yours, have the potential to not just interfere with our relationship, but to tear us apart and leave what’s left of our hearts in bloody chunks. But the bottom line, I think, is this, Thomas…if you really, truly love someone, you accept them just as they are. Good, bad, beautiful, ugly…all of it. And I accept you. All of you. Every bit. After all you know now, are you willing to do the same for me?”

He closed the distance between us and had his arms around me before I’d even registered that he’d moved.

“I already have, Maude. I already have.”

He buried his face in my neck, and I slipped my arms around his waist, arms bent at the elbow and hands resting on his shoulder blades, chin on his shoulder. I sighed as his scent hit me, and all the tension, the pain, the doubt, and the misery I’d felt for the past twenty-four hours just…left me. He pulled back and put his hands on the side of my face, the T-shirt bandage cast aside, fingers and thumbs exploring my visage gently as he smiled softly through his tears.

“How do you do it? How do you deal with all of this and not only stay standing, but pull me right up with you? You are so very, very strong. The strongest woman I’ve ever met. The strongest person I’ve ever met.”

I shrugged. “I’m like Gloria Gaynor. Or a cockroach. I will survive.”

He laughed, then sobered. “Maude, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. And for everything else. Thank you for your understanding, and for your forgiveness, my love. I feel as if I’ve died and been resurrected.”

“Just so you know, once someone forgives you, you no longer have to apologize for the act or acts that necessitated said forgiving. And you were here for me, the entire time. You chartered a jet to get me here, for fuck’s sake. You remained at my side even though you thought things were over between us. When I saw you at the hospice, standing there, looking down at…” I smashed my lips together as I felt tears well up, trying to overpower me. “And then when you looked up at me…I saw…” I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what the next few days are going to hold for me, Tom. And I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get through them without breaking down. I’m strong, you’re right about that. But this…this is something I’ve been avoiding for almost half my life. Coming…here. The place that was supposed to be home but never was. Facing everything I tried so hard to deny and forget. And even though I said I don’t need anyone, that I don’t need you…I think…I think…that this time…this time, maybe I do.”

His arms wound round me again. “Lean on me. Cry to me. Let me catch you if you fall. Whatever it is that you need, I’ll be right here.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you mentioned that moment at the hospice. When you walked out, and I was alone with…the…her…I saw it, Maude. The future that could have been mine, could still be mine, if I let the darkness take hold of me. I never had a problem with alcohol prior to last year. I’d go out, have a few beers, some wine, an occasional whiskey on the rocks. It was all in good fun, and a good time. But after…that changed. I no longer drank to have fun. I drank to forget. To leave all the pain behind and be, as Roger Waters so perfectly phrased it, comfortably numb. So I began reaching for the hard stuff first, and instead of having fun I’d get irritated. Then angry. Screaming. Breaking things. And, consequently, the blackouts commenced.”

I sighed. “Been there, done that, as they say. Didn’t work out too well.”

He began drawing circles on my lower back with his left hand. “For me, either. I made the biggest mistakes of my life in that altered state…and I have no memory of actually making them. The therapist I was working with felt I was self-medicating due to underlying issues I’d yet to resolve.”

I rolled my eyes. “Check. Check. Double check. See also work, and food.”

“It was another thing I thought I’d gotten past…but last night proved me wrong. I phoned him before I picked you up at the airport, and while our conversation was brief, he reminded me that I need to always be conscious of my own trauma triggers if I wish to break the cycle permanently. I’m going to go in for a few refresher sessions when we get back to London, if that’s all right with you.”

“Oh, no, please don’t get help for yourself, Tom.” I rolled my eyes again. “Of course it’s fine with me. And if there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.”

He smiled gingerly. “I will. And thank you. Seeing your mother there…it was downright Dickensian. The ghost of Christmas yet to come. A life wasted, used to destroy everyone in range instead of loving them as they deserved to be loved, as they loved her. A death, faced entirely alone. All her own choice, her own doing. All with alcohol as her partner in crime.” He stepped back and took my hands in his. “In that moment, I made my choice. I chose to be honest, and open, and hope that the one that I loved and had hurt would be able to heal and believe in love again. Even if I wasn’t the one she loved any longer.” 

Tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I smirked and gently thumped his chest. “God damn you, Hiddleston. SO not helping me keep it together.”

He brushed an errant curl off my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Would it be completely out of line to ask if I may kiss you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, then. May I kiss you, Maude Gallagher?”

“Yes. Yes you may. And rest assured, I will NOT be offended if you slip me some tongue.”

The kiss was chaste at first, his lips feather-light on mine, but the second my mouth dropped open the slightest bit I felt his hand on the back of my head as he pulled me closer and thrust his tongue in to greet mine. I ran it over his teeth, his lips, groaning as he began to suck on it. He whimpered as I pressed against him, wrapping one leg around his as we focused on devouring each other. A loud rumbling that lasted a solid eight seconds or more made me pull back, breathless.

“Dude, was that your stomach?”

He laughed. “I believe it was. That doesn’t happen often, I’ll admit.”

I frowned, still panting slightly. “You haven’t eaten at all today, have you?”

He shook his head. “No. I didn’t have much of an appetite.”

“You need some food. Me too, actually. Shocking, I know. What time is it?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

The room’s alarm clock was on the desk, turned away from the bed. I walked over to move it and was stunned to see that the display read 11:38. I dug in my messenger back for my phone so I could see if there was any place still open that offered delivery service to the hotel and suddenly realized I hadn’t turned it back on since we left San Diego.

“Shit. My phone’s been off this entire time. You?”

He nodded.

I sat on the bed, powered it on, and when it booted fully it sounded like R2-D2 with all the beeps and boops that announced I had fifteen texts and four voicemails. Most were from Simon, and I was about to call back when I remembered the time difference.

I looked up at Tom. “I’m just going to send Simon a quick text so he knows we’re alive when he wakes up. Then I’ll find us some food.”

Fuck, I’m so sorry. Phone’s been off since we left San Diego. All our cats are out of their collective bags. We’re okay. Love you. And thank you. – M

“Okay, done. There’s a Domino’s pizza that’s open until one AM…sound okay?”

“Perfect. You should probably order two pies, though. I’m suddenly ravenous.”

I snorted as I clicked and placed the order. “Please. Why even bother to order ONE pizza? I got soda as well.”

He sat next me, one leg up on the bed and bent at the knee, the other foot on the floor. He moved my ponytail aside and placed a kiss at the base of my neck that lit me on fire. “Thank you, my love.”

“You’re welcome.” I looked up at him. “Tom, do Luke and Simon know…everything? Just in case he’s still up and calls back. I don’t want to inadvertently say something I shouldn’t.”

“They know that Jane cheated on me with Ben and Idris, and that she rejected my proposal to be with him, but I never mentioned the pregnancy. As far as the situation with Claudia, they’re aware that some of the videos involve more than two people, but I just…I couldn’t bring myself to reveal the nature of our final encounter. You’re the only one I’ve ever told either of those things.”

The phone dropped from my hand as I shifted to face him, placing my leg on the bed as well, knee touching his. “What about your therapist?” He shook his head. “So you’ve been living with this all by yourself this entire time? Tom. My god.”

He reached out to take my hands in his. “Have you told anyone else your story?”

I shook my head vehemently. “Fuck no.”

He smiled. “You’ve lived with things on your own a lot longer than I have.”

I sighed. “Touché.”

He ran his thumbs across the base of my wrists. “You don’t have to live with anything on your own, Maude. Not anymore.”

“You either.” I leaned in towards him, eyes locked on his. “Tom, I’m so very, very sorry for you loss.”

His reply was quiet, tears welling up instantly and threatening to spill over. “Thank you. And I’m very, very sorry for all that you’ve lost as well.”

“Thank you.” I climbed onto his lap, my head resting on his shoulder, his on mine, our arms wrapped around each other. We remained as such until the deliveryman knocked on our door, Tom cleaned and disinfected his bruised and bloodied knuckles, and then we stuffed ourselves with greasy, delicious pizza. The fullness exacerbated our exhaustion, and we were barely able to wash up, brush our teeth and strip down before falling into bed. Both of us squeezing into a double bed might have been less than ideal under normal circumstances, but tonight it felt exactly right. We lay there, face to face, foreheads touching, arms and legs entwined, taking each other in, nothing between us undisclosed. I’d always thought it would make me feel raw and exposed, revealing my past to someone else. That whomever I told would judge me, and leave me. But he was still here. And I felt…relieved. Like I’d been released from the chains that had weighed me down and held me prisoner inside myself for so very long. I felt…free. A soft, warm kiss on my lips pulled me from my thoughts.

“I love you, Maude. So, so much. You are my heart, my soul, the blood in my veins. I don’t know how I managed to live my life without you in it.”

I smiled. “I love you too, Thomas. And for me…it’s simple. Before you, that wasn’t living. It was existing. But this, here, now…this is living.” I touched my lips to his, and that was the last sensation I processed before I was overtaken by my body’s demand for respite.


	18. Chapter 18

When I awakened I was flat on my back, covers akimbo, Tom’s leg resting heavily over the lower half of my body, his bruised hand cupping my breast. I ran my fingers over his knuckles lightly, assessing the damage. I hadn’t thought to look closely in the bathroom to see what he’d struck. His breathing changed, and I knew he was awake as well. I turned my head to look at him as I rested my hand on top of his.

“You should tell him, you know.”

He yawned, blinking. “Tell who what now?”

“Your therapist. If you’re going to continue seeing him, you should tell him about…”

He rose up on one elbow. “About the baby?” I nodded, and he kissed me on the forehead. “I know. I will. Can’t very well expect him to help me resolve issues he’s completely unaware of.” He frowned. “It is what broke me, after all.”

I reached up and brushed his cheek with the back of my hand, his day-old beard scratchy and soft all at once. “Ditto.”

The left side of his mouth turned up in a sad, lopsided smile. “That’s the first time I’ve said the words out loud since it happened. The baby. I think about it that way all the time, but I don’t say it. Because it…wasn’t…yet, scientifically speaking? So it seems inappropriate to say, like it’s somehow offensive to term it such. My own experience gets all caught up with my unshakable belief that it’s the woman’s body, therefore, it’s her choice to do what she feels is necessary to do regarding a pregnancy.”

I frowned. “I’m in full agreement with you there. Though I don’t agree with a woman allowing her partner to think one thing when her actual intentions have been something completely different all along.” I shook my head. “Sorry. Don’t want to dredge it all up again every time you mention it…”

“No, don’t be. Please. I’m glad to finally be able to talk about it with someone other than myself. I think it’s…cathartic?”

I kissed his cheek. “Good. But if you want me to shut up at any point, say so.”

He opened his eyes wide. “And my saying so will actually result in the cessation of your speaking?”

“Fuck off.”

He laughed for a moment, then sat up. “Do you think about it?”

I sat up as well, watching his eyes drop to my breasts briefly, then return to my face. “Yes. Of course I do. The first week of May each year I find myself thinking of how old he…or she…would have been. That was right around when I would have been due. Eighteen this year. Which is…insane, isn’t it?”

He took my hand. “Five and a half months for me.”

We were silent for a few minutes, holding hands. He spoke first. “Maude, do you still want to have children?”

My brow furrowed as I considered a question I never thought I’d need to answer, and I let my heart lead instead of my brain. “I never really thought about it since, but…yes. Not right, like, now, but despite the fact that I have zero maternal skills or instincts and thus a most likely very limited potential for filling such a role, I’d like to have a family.”

He leaned in toward me, resting one hand on my hip, whispering softly in my ear. “You’ll be an incredible mother, Maude. Don’t you dare doubt that, not for a single second.”

I snorted. “I suppose if I use my own mother as a shining example of everything I shouldn’t do, I might not be half bad at it. Lord knows I don’t think it’s possible to fuck it up worse than she did.” I poked my index finger into his chest. “And you? Do you still want kids?”

He nodded. “I’ve always wanted a family of my own. To be a father. And, like you, I don’t think I could fuck it up any worse than my father did.” A smile spread slowly across his face. “For the first time, I’m finding myself thinking that I’m…well…no longer quite as devastated that things worked out the way they did. Is that awful of me? I hope not. I mean, if they hadn’t, we would have never met…”

“I’m actually totally on board with that, Hiddleston. And I’m also on board with a nice, hot shower followed by coffee and beignets at Café du Monde. You?”

“Will you be dressing after the shower? I mean, I don’t mind a bit if you’d like to venture out nude…”

I punched him in the arm. “Ugh. It’s not even seven AM yet. No. Just…no.”

He grinned, jumped up, grabbed his carryon bag and ran into the bathroom ahead of me before I could even stand.

“Thomas, you bastard…I have to pee so bad I’m going to scream.” I heard the toilet flush, then the shower turn on.

“The throne is all yours, my queen.”

“Wow. Such a benevolent king you are.” I tried to run my hands through my tangled hair as I sat down on the bowl. “If you don’t leave me some hot water you’re a dead man. You know that, right?”

He chuckled. I peed, flushed, washed my hands and went to dig around in my carryon for my shampoo, soap and all the other crap I needed to make myself look relatively human. My contacts felt like they were fused to my eyeballs, so I figured a change might be in order. I couldn’t remember where I’d put the box of them that I’d had shipped to Hawaii, but after strewing clothing all over the room floor and a long string of profanities into the air I found them safely tucked away in one of my floral print Doc Martens. I was kneeling naked on the carpet, leaning on one arm while I shoved the box of contacts back in my shoe with the other when I heard a heavy, wet thunk behind me. I craned my neck to determine the source, only to find Tom standing behind me, still glistening wet and dripping, the towel he’d begun drying himself with in a heap on the floor at his feet, his cock proudly erect, nostrils flaring and chest heaving.

I raised my left eyebrow. “Hi. Was there something you needed from me? Or are you just going to stand there like a Grecian statue subjecting me to Chinese water torture with all that drip…”

He sank to his knees and leaned over me, covering my body with his, hands on the floor next to mine. His cock slipped into the crack of my ass and he slid himself up and down it briefly, then paused. “Need. Something.”

He growled and thrust his hips forward, and the vibrations from his chest felt like a giant cat purring against my back. His lips found my neck, and he balanced on one hand as he reached under me with the other to cup my mound as he slid his index finger between my lips. He stilled.

“Maude, is something…is everything okay? You…you’re not…”

I’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. I should have known better. “Not as wet as I usually am? Yeah. Sorry. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. Please, continue.”

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to a sitting position as he rested on his haunches. “It’s not fine, love. I’m so sorry…I should have asked…you’re thinking about having to make all the necessary plans so you can bury your mother and here I am…”

I shook my head. “No, no…it’s not that. Not that at all. I think I’ve just got a mild case of…erm…performance anxiety, maybe?”

His mouth opened, then closed, finally frowning as his brow creased. “What? But…why would you…?” The crease faded and when his eyes widened and he bit his lip I knew he’d answered his own question.

My hands were clenched into fists, thumbs running back and forth over the sides of my index fingers. “Damn. I am really, really not proficient at this whole talking about my feelings bullshit.”

He reached out and put his hands over mine. “Tell me what’s on your mind. We’ll figure it all out together, all right?”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and let it out to the count of ten. “I knew you’d been with other people. Obviously. And that’s, you know, fine. People need to get laid. That’s the deal. People have prior relationships. Also the deal. But now that I, like, really KNOW just how much more experience you’ve had than I have…I guess…oy…eh, fuck it…when presented with the reality of being intimate with you, it seems that all my sexual confidence went flying out the window and I feel as if anything I do in an attempt to satisfy you will be thoroughly inadequate.” I pulled my hands out from under his and covered my face as I shook my head. “Jesus fucking Christ, did I actually just say that out loud?”

He sat behind me, back against the bed, legs extended and resting on either side of mine, arms wrapped around my waist and his chin on my shoulder. “Yes, you did. And I’m glad you did. Maude, if the situation were reversed and I’d just learned about you what you learned about me last night…I’d like to think otherwise, but in actuality I believe I’d be feeling the exact same way.”

I sighed and dropped my chin to my chest as he continued speaking.

“Yes, I’ve had a far greater number of sexual encounters than you, many of them not exactly traditional or what one would expect their partner to have experienced. But I can say, with complete candor, that I have never experienced the sort of pure, unadulterated, lascivious carnal pleasure you bestow upon me with anyone else. NO ONE. I’d have use the term ‘satisfaction’ but that’s the understatement of the century and not the slightest bit accurate. Because that’s the thing of it, Maude…I’m never satisfied. As soon as I’ve had you, I want you again. I’ve spent the last two weeks in a nearly constant state of arousal. I wake up wanting you, I fall asleep wanting you. The slightest touch from you makes me hard. When I catch your scent, it makes me hard. The sound of your voice. My name on your lips, the way you move, a sideways glance in my direction, the peal of your laughter…and when you sing, my good lord, when you sing…I haven’t been this continually tumescent since I was a teenager. Perhaps ever. The way you feel around me when I’m inside you, how you can take all of me and I don’t have to hold back for fear of hurting you, the way you nearly swallow me whole, your boundless enthusiasm, your adventurousness, that your sense of humor extends into the bedroom, so to speak…your unabashed self-confidence…and the sounds you make, Maude, what they do to me…”

I turned around to face him, put my knees on the outside of his thighs and sank down on his cock, panting. “’K. I’m good now. Thanks for that. Fuck me?”

He grinned. “In this particular position I believe you’re going to have to do the majority of the fucking.”

“Fine. Whatever.” I grabbed his shoulders and began riding him mercilessly, rolling my hips as I chased the orgasm that had been building since he was midway through his monologue. My eyes traveled to where we were joined and lingered there, watching the way his hips rose and fell as he tried to thrust deeper. I moved my knees outward to give him better access, and the moan he let loose drew my eyes back to his face. His head lolled back on the bed, eyes closed, jaw clenched, hands on my ass, and the sight of him sent me over, walls clenching, squeezing him as the edges of my vision grew dim. I could feel him twitching, then stuttering as he began to come.

“Thomas, you are so fucking beautiful I swear I could come just from looking at you.”

He grabbed the sides of my head with his hands and kissed me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as he spurted inside me, the sensation of his hot come coating my walls propelling me into a second orgasm that was even more powerful than the first. I pulled away from his mouth, wrapped my arms around him and collapsed, head on his shoulder, face buried in his neck.

He whispered in my ear. “That was an incredibly lovely thing to say, my darling. I feel the same way about you, you know.”

I didn’t have the energy to speak so I licked his neck instead.

He snorted. “So, performance anxiety problem solved, then, yeah?”

I ground down on his softening cock, feeling it begin to harden again instantly. “Yep. Yes. Indeed it is. And, thank you. You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.”

“And you sure know how to make a fella feel good about himself.” He kissed my forehead. “I’d rather stay here all day, but I suppose we should get going, eh?”

I sighed, grabbing his wet towel off the floor and stuffing it between my legs as I climbed off him and gathered up my stuff. Once I was in the bathroom I mopped myself off with the towel, then tossed it on the floor before stepping into the shower.

“Tom?”

“Yes?”

“Will you please make a note somewhere so we remember to tip the maids really, really well?”

He laughed. “Why, are you planning on making a mess?”

“We already made a mess.”

Silence for a moment. “Oh. I get it. Yes. Huge tip.” A long pause. “Note made.”

“Thank you.”

“You know, I have a decent cash flow at the moment so if you wish to partake in the creation of additional messes…”

“Count on it, stud muffin.” 

“Stud? What, I’m a horse now?”

“I’m not sure you should go there, Loki.”

Silence again, until the shower curtain was flung open so I could watch as he whinnied and pranced around the bathroom.

I laughed until I cried, losing one of my crusty old contacts in the process.

“God…Tom…” Another fit of laughter. “You are…such…a fucking…dork.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “I’m aware. You look incredibly sexy when you laugh, you know.”

“Get out of my bathroom, you asshole. I need to focus. Which is an even bigger challenge now since I can only see out of one eye.”

He smirked.

“GO!”

“I love you, woman.”

“I love you too. Now get the fuck out, m’kay? And put some clothes on.”

He stuck his tongue out at me, then slapped himself on the ass as he walked through the door and into the main area of the room.

****************************************  
For once, I knew exactly what I was going to wear before I even put my underwear on - brown and black galaxy print tank dress with my black Birkenstocks. The grommeted gladiator sandals seemed a little too flashy for the tasks at hand, and the forecasted temperature was ninety-seven degrees. No way did I want those strings digging into my sweaty calves. I even had my hair up in a top- knot so it wouldn’t be stuck to my neck all day long. Despite my suggestion that he wear shorts, Tom opted for a black V-neck T-shirt, jeans and…those boots.

We’d planned on walking, but once we stepped outside and the humidity slapped us in the face we turned to each other and said ‘car’ in unison. Café du Monde was two miles from the hotel, and we parked a few blocks away. Tom had never been, and watching him take it all in was a delight. He was captivated by the architecture, the diversity of the crowd, and the strains of music in the air even at this early hour. When we arrived at the Café, he grabbed my arm and shook it gently.

“I’ve seen pictures, and read about it in so many books over the years…and now, here it is, right in front of me!” He pulled out his phone, took a selfie with the patio and awning in view, typed with his thumbs, then showed me his tweet.

New Orleans. Café du Monde. Going to have my first official beignet with a café au lait. #uncontrolablyexcited

I grinned as we entered the building. “If you think you’re excited now wait until you taste the fucking things.” We took our place in the line to order. “And nice job with the tweeting. Going to put in on Tumblr, too?”

He shook his head. “Nope. The shot I get out on the patio is going there.”

“I’m impressed, Thomas.”

“Well, all the credit belongs to my social media manager. She may be a tad demanding, but she’s an exceptionally good motivator.”

I shrugged. “I can’t argue with any of that. Well, I suppose I could, but I’d rather stuff my face with powdered-sugar coated fried dough.”

A single order of beignets consisted of three delectable squares of goodness, and we each got two, giving us a total of twelve beignets. Which, in the past, I’d had no problems polishing off on my own. I convinced myself I could share like a responsible, caring adult…and if that didn’t work out, we could always order more. Tom’s café au lait was the traditional kind, served hot, and I decided the iced version was the way to go. It was technically only half coffee, so one surely couldn’t hurt me too badly as, unlike yesterday, I had a few solid hours of sleep under my belt and was vastly less anxious. Plus, you can’t go to the Café du Monde and order soda. It’s just not right. And soda mixed with all that powdered sugar…too sweet, even for me.

We made our way out to the patio and found a corner right next to the fence with a great view of the street, both of us seating ourselves on one side of the round table. I edged over a good bit so I could see his face, and because I abhorred the thought of being one of those couples. You know the type…they sit on the same side of the booth, drape themselves all over each other and make you want to puke. He immediately moved his chair closer to me.

I rolled my eyes. “Dude, have you no respect for my personal space? Or is it that you want easy access to my food?”

He put his hand on my upper thigh, squeezed and whispered in my ear. “That’s not all I’d like easy access to, Maude.”

I picked up a beignet and held it to his lips. “Shut up and eat, Thomas.”

He waggled his eyebrows at me and took a huge bite, groaning salaciously as he chewed and swallowed.

“They’re everything I’d hoped they’d be and so much MORE.” He downed his six in minutes, then began working on my pile until I slapped his hand away when there were only three left. I ate them slowly, one nibble at a time, savoring the taste. I’d come here with Anne many times over the years, and by myself after school when I felt like reading out of doors instead of in the library. There weren’t many fond memories for me in New Orleans, but this…this was near the top of the list.

I popped the last bite into my mouth, wiped my face with a napkin and took a sip of my beverage. We sat in silence, drinking and watching the world go by around us. It was surreal, being back here, and even more so because I wasn’t on my own. Tom dragged his chair so he was right next to me, phone in hand.

He smiled softly. “Do you mind being in this one?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Any residual sugar on my face?”

He gave me a once over. “No. Me?”

“Nope, you’re good.”

He took three shots, and I declined to offer any input on which was better, instead pulling my phone out of my bag to see if it was nine AM yet, which seemed a safe time to begin making calls.

He shoved his screen on top of mine.

Today we’re in New Orleans, and I’ve just finished my first authentic beignet. All right, my first nine beignets. Enjoying our café au laits and the timeless atmosphere. Everywhere I look is a glimpse straight into the past. Amazing. Feeling very, very grateful for this life I’ve been given and the people I’m so blessed to have sharing it with me.

I pinched his cheek. “Me too, you adorable fucker.”

He chuckled, kissed me quickly, the returned to his phone. “I’m going to try Luke. What time is it there? Six?”

“No. Five-fifteen.”

“Shit, I guess I’d better wait then. Though Simon’s probably up doing yoga.” He saw I’d pulled up the funeral home’s info on my phone. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

I shook my head and dialed.

A gentleman with a deep, somber voice answered the phone and I almost burst out laughing at how stereotypical it was. “Estelle J. Willson, how may I help you?”

“Good morning. My name is Maude Gallagher…”

“Miss Gallager, Mr. Cooper at Passages reached out last night to let us know you’d be in touch. I’m Francis Black, the office manager. I’m very sorry for your loss. Would you like to make an appointment to come in today to meet with Cheryl Henderson, our funeral director?”

“Thank you. And yes, I would, but I’m not certain as to what Mrs. Bonaventura had in mind as far as arrangements go, so it’s probably best if I meet with her attorney first.”

“Well then, how about y’all just drop by once you’ve gotten that out of the way? I’ll let Mrs. Henderson know to expect you. Any time is fine, and since we have a visitation scheduled she’ll be here until after nine tonight.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you, Mr. Black. I’ll phone back once I have a better handle on things.”

I glanced at Tom. He was staring intently at a short, portly, older gentleman playing the violin at the other end of the Café’s patio area. I smiled and Googled the number for the Dooley Law Firm, then hit the call icon.

A woman answered, her accent so light I had to wonder if she’d left and come back, or if she hadn’t been here very long. When you’re immersed in it every day, it’s very difficult to not pick it up, even if it’s just the slightest bit on particular words. “Good morning, Dooley Law Firm, Sally Anne speaking.”

“Good morning, Sally Anne. I’m Maude Gallagher and I need to make an appointment with Bartholomew Stevens…he’s Mary Bonaventura’s attorney. She passed away on Saturday. I’m her daughter.” My eyes rolled as the words left my mouth.

“Oh, all right then. Let me check his schedule. He’s free today at ten AM. Will that work for you?”

“Absolutely. Thanks so much.”

“Sure thing, Miss Gallagher. Just check in at the desk when you get here.”

I put my phone on the table and drained the last of my iced café au lait. Tom put his arm around me.

“You okay?”

I leaned into him. So much for not being one of those couples. Perhaps I was just so jaded that I’d always judged too harshly.

“I’d like to reiterate that I’m glad you’re here.”

He kissed the top of my head. “I am as well, love.”

As I sat back up my phone rang. Lestat calling. Tom peeked at the screen, left eyebrow raised, questioning.

“It’s Anne. She’s in there under that because I think it’s hilarious to see…anyway. Shit. I don’t wanna, but I should, I guess…” I hit the answer button, but couldn’t think of what to say.

“Maude? Are you there?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

“How are you doing, honey?”

“I’m doing. You?”

“I wanted to apologize before I saw you. You were correct. It was very wrong of me to withhold the fact that your mother had divorced from you. Sometimes my faith hinders my logic.”

I snorted. “Which is why I have no faith. And Anne, I’m sorry too. I was a total see you next Tuesday to you. I know you were just being…you. Always trying to be kind and decent to everyone, looking out for their immortal souls. Even if they are complete and total douchebags who don’t deserve it.”

She laughed. “I have to say, with your mother, it was difficult. I’m hard pressed to think of any redeeming qualities she possessed, other than giving birth to you. But I know your father would have wanted me to do what I could, so I did.”

I felt myself go cold when she mentioned him and decided to redirect her. “What did you mean, before you saw me?”

“I’m in town so I can attend her services. Just got here an hour or so ago, and when I saw Tom’s tweet I assumed that meant you were here, too.”

I groaned. “I sincerely regret teaching you so much about social media.”

“Christopher regrets it as well. He said if I try to fix him up with someone I find online just one more time he’s deleting all my accounts.” I laughed. “So, I don’t suppose you’d let me take you both out for dinner this evening? Court of Two Sisters, maybe?”

I put her on speaker, then turned to Tom. “Anne has requested the pleasure of our company at dinner this evening. You game?”

He waved at my phone, and I giggled. “Hello, Anne. And yes, I’m so very, very game. Thank you kindly for thinking of us.”

Anne inhaled sharply. “Good Lord, Maude…how is it that you can listen to that voice and still manage to leave your hotel room?”

My face scrunched up as I winced at her comment, and Tom smirked evilly at me.

“You know you’re on speaker, don’t you?”

She chuckled. “Whoops. Chalk it up to my being a forgetful old woman who’s confused by technology. But really, how do…” I smashed my finger on the speaker button to change our conversation back to private.

“So, what time is dinner then?”

“Is eight o’clock all right?”

“Sounds good.”

“Excellent. I’ll reserve my table. Can’t wait to see you kid. If you need anything in the interim, call.”

“I will. Thanks.”

I hit end call and looked at Tom. He was still smirking. “Come on, you. It’s a fifteen minute drive to the attorney’s office and if we don’t leave now I’ll be late.”

He smirked all the way to the car, and I began to wonder if dinner with two people who knew so much about me was perhaps a terrible idea.

****************************************  
Bartholomew Stevens was a giant of a man, two inches taller than Tom and outweighing him by at least a hundred pounds. He was dressed in a light blue and white seersucker suit with a navy blue and white polka dotted tie, his black hair streaked with silver, as was his handlebar mustache. After shaking our hands, he invited us to take a seat in the leather wing-back chairs across from his huge mahogany desk and asked if we’d like some lemonade or iced tea. I passed, Tom chose lemonade. Sally Anne brought it in moments later.

“Miss Gallagher, I’m so very sorry for your loss. Your momma was…one of a kind.” His voice was deep, not quite booming, but I could imagine the attention it would receive echoing in an open courtroom.

I resisted the urge to be snarky. “Thank you, Attorney Stevens. She was indeed…unique.” Tom almost spit out his lemonade.

“Please, call me Barty. We’re all friends here.”

“And feel free to call me Maude.”

“I do like that name, Maude. Are you aware that it means powerful battler, or warrior?”

I smiled. “I am. But my father chose it because he loved the television show. And Bea Arthur.”

Barty laughed, slapping his knee. “Oh, that’s rich, I say. Rich. I didn’t know your father personally, but I do know that he was a good, hard working fella.” He cleared his throat. “Anyhow. You’re here for the details so you can get to the funeral parlor, I’d assume, so I don’t want to take up too much of your time. First order of business. The will.”

He looked at my face to gauge my reaction. He got nothing.

“Mary died intestate. Meaning she had no will.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m aware of what intestate means, but thank you.”

He grinned. “Most people can’t even spell it, never mind know what it means.”

I leaned forward. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. That she had no will…now that surprises me. I would have thought she’d want to be crystal clear about who got what. Or who didn’t get what, as the case may be.”

“Well, after she married that young man back in 1998 they both came in and she had me draw one up listing him as the sole beneficiary of her estate. After he left town with his high school girlie, she came in and filed a statement with me to revoke all existing wills and codicils, marked the one with him on it void and said she wasn’t interested in having a new one made. I don’t know if he was notified, and he may have a copy of it on hand. If any issues arise, just call the office and I’ll take care of it. But, bottom line, there is no will in place, so by default the estate passes to you.”

The thought of having to deal with Will regarding such a matter was both horrifying and entertaining. If he thought he was going to cash in there was no way he wouldn’t be making an appearance, and I was glad I at least had a bit of a heads up.

I took a deep breath to clear my head. “Did she know that would be the case?”

He laughed. “I never told her as much, but I’m sure she did. Now, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? The estate consists solely of the home on Saint Charles and its contents. Any cash she had on hand she either spent prior to entering the hospice, or donated after paying up front for her anticipated time at Passages. They may owe you a few days, but it’s probably not worth the hassle to try and get it back. She did not set any funds aside for funeral expenses, and had no life insurance policy.”

I waved my hand at him. “I figured as much. I’ll take care of everything.”

He nodded. “An upstanding thing to do, young lady. The house, I’m afraid, has a rather large home equity loan attached to it. If sold it will most likely generate a profit, but I’m not privy to the condition of said home nor on top of current market values, so take that with a grain of salt. Might be best to let the bank take it.”

“How much is the loan balance?”

“Right around three hundred thousand or so.”

Tom whistled. I shrugged and pulled out my phone to do a quick search on prior sales.

“Will you put all of the info together for me so I can contact the loan holder? I need to have it appraised first, but I’m more than likely going to pay it off and take possession.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tom leaning way forward to try and catch my eye. I kept my focus on Barty.

“I most certainly will, Maude. I’ll have everything we’ve discussed typed up and printed for you.”

“Can you email a PDF instead?” I took my wallet out of my bag, pulled out one of my business cards and put it on his desk.

“Yes I can. Only a few more things to cover and then you can head on out. Your mother did write up a list for me as far as what she’d like…done. She requested Estelle J. Wilson, which I believe you already know.”

I nodded.

“She’d like their Traditional Service, visitation one night, funeral service there the next day, followed by interment in the family Garden Crypt at the Greenwood Cemetery, where your father is.”

My hands balled into fists reflexively, jaw clenching.

“She’s also requested a particular dress…here’s a picture of it…that’s in the closet at the house. I have the key to get in for you, as well as the combination to the safe and another key for what she’s left in there for you. I have no idea what that may be. But, that should do it. If you have questions or need anything, call me on my cellular phone. The number’s on the back of the picture.”

I stood, and Tom rose with me. I proffered my hand. “Thank you, Barty. This was very thorough, but nice and short. Much appreciated.”

He shook it, his large meaty hand encasing mine almost to the point of it being invisible. “You’re very welcome, Maude. I’m sure you have quite a roster of things to take care after this. Best of luck to you, and again, if you need me, just call.” He turned to Tom, hand extended, and they shook vigorously. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Thomas.”

“And yours as well, Barty. Thank you for the lemonade. It was delicious treat, perfect for a July day.”

“You’re quite welcome. Take it easy out there. It’s goddamn hot, even for New Orleans.”

I didn’t speak as we left the building, wanting to wait until we got in the car to see what Tom had to say. If anything. He just stared at me blankly.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Hiddleston?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again several times, bearing a strong resemblance to a nutcracker, then spoke. “I’m not sure where to start. Even though I know the entire back story, I’m having trouble believing that someone could be so…so…awful that they’d make a conscious effort to ensure that their only child was not just left with nothing upon their passing but actually had to pay money out of their own pocket to bury them.”

I patted his knee. “Yeah. She was quite the fucking asshole. But the joke’s on her. She kept the loan balance high because she thought I’d never be able to pay it off, and, I’m sure, because she spent money like fucking water, but it’s glaringly apparent she neglected to re-evaluate property values in the area since, like, forever. She demanded that they take out the loan back before I graduated from high school so they’d have some ‘savings’ since she’d blown through her entire inheritance buying, remodeling and redecorating the house. The reason they were able to borrow so much was because they paid cash for it and had nothing but equity. Things have…changed. Even if it’s in terrible condition, it’s worth at least six hundred thousand. If it doesn’t need any major repairs, up that to eight hundred thousand. Or more. Either way, that’s a tidy profit margin when I sell it.”

He shook his head. “How are you planning on…”

I interrupted him. “Remember that Exxon stock that my dad left me? It was two thousand shares. I sold it all, spent a quarter of it getting myself set up in New York, sat on the remaining hundred thousand for a few years, and when I was given the opportunity to participate in Google’s IPO I gambled most of it. I bought eleven hundred shares at eight-five dollars per, then sold it in May of 2013 when the stock hit nine hundred dollars a share.”

I could see him trying to do the math. He looked at me, smiling sheepishly. “Not happening, I’m afraid. I’ve never been good at doing math in my head. How much is that?”

“Nine hundred and ninety-thousand dollars.”

“Are you fucking joking? I was way off…and that’s…wow.”

“I was just in the right place at the right time. My dad gets all the props for leaving me something to work with, and for not letting my mother bully him into cashing it in so she could spend it. I’m hoping it will allow me to retire before I hit fifty. It’s all nestled safely away, earning interest. There’s no way I’ll be able to resist adding more to the pot by investing some of it for a little while.”

He tapped his chin with his index finger. “Hmm…I don’t suppose you’d be interested in being my financial manager, would you?”

“Depends. Would my compensation be in the form of sexual favors?”

“It would be my sincerest pleasure to pay you however you’d prefer. And that sounds like a lot more fun than writing a check.”

“I’ll take the matter under advisement.” I pulled out my phone and called the funeral home to let them know we were on our way, then headed down Canal Street to Route 10. A left onto MLK Boulevard was next, then a right onto Lasalle, a left onto Washington and a sharp left onto Danneel. Four miles total, thirteen minutes. Traffic moves slowly in New Orleans. Not New York City slow, but still slow.

A gentleman was seated at the front desk, and as soon as he said hello I knew it had to be Mr. Black. Somber voice. Mr. Black. Working at a funeral home. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing like a lunatic at my own joke.

He escorted us to an office, and Mrs. Henderson greeted us at the door. We sat on the couch, she sat in one of the chairs across from us. She was dressed in a grey suit jacket and matching A-line skirt, her blouse white with a high ruffled collar. Mid-fifties, blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, cats eye glasses with black frames resting low on her nose.

“Miss Gallagher, I am truly sorry for your loss. Rest assured we’ll take care of every little thing so you don’t have to, all right?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Henderson. According to Attorney Stevens, my mother wanted your Traditional Service, visitation one night, funeral the next. Interment in the family crypt in Greenwood Cemetery. He provided me with a key to her home so I can procure the dress she wanted to be buried in…I’ll deliver that here to you at some point today. If it’s at all possible, I’d like to schedule things for Wednesday and Thursday of this week. Tomorrow would be better, but I understand that’s probably not an option.”

She nodded. “Not enough time to get things ready for tomorrow. But Wednesday and Thursday…” She reached behind her and grabbed an iPad off the desk, pausing as she scrolled through her appointment book. “We can do receiving hours from four until six, and schedule the service at one with the interment at two. Will that work for you?”

“Definitely, thank you.”

“We’ll get it online today and in tomorrow’s newspapers. Did you want the service and interment public or private?”

“Service public, interment private, please.”

She reached out and put her hand over mine briefly. “I always hate asking this, but it’s necessary. Open or closed casket?”

Instantaneously, my mind was flooded with images from when my father died, my mother sitting next to me at another funeral home in town answering that same question. Her reply had been ‘Oh my good god, closed, of course. It’s bad enough that everyone knows he blew his brains out. I don’t want them to see it too.’ The funeral director explained that they’d be able to cover it all up, but she insisted someone would notice, so closed it was. I placed a photograph of him on top of the casket, but when I looked back a few minutes later it had disappeared. I found it later in the restroom garbage can. I was never sure who’d done it…my mother, or Will. Tom’s hand rubbing my leg drew me back into the present, and I turned my head to meet his gaze. My hands were shaking, and I’d broken out in a cold sweat.

He leaned in, eyes full of concern, speaking in a voice just north of a whisper. “It’s okay, Maude. You’re okay. I’m right here. Whatever you need.”

I took a deep breath, then swallowed hard as I grabbed his hand and held on like I never intended to let go. “Thank you.” He squeezed twice, then brought our joined hands to his lips and kissed mine.

I turned back to Mrs. Henderson. “Sorry about that.”

She shook her head. “No need to apologize, dear. This is a very difficult time for you.” She glanced at Tom. “I’m glad to see you have someone so supportive to help you through it.”

I managed a weak smile as I felt my strength begin to return. “So…what’s your opinion, if you don’t mind my asking? Would open be inappropriate based on her condition?”

“Our cosmetologist is very talented, and I’m certain she can erase all traces of the jaundice and…well, I doubt you want the details but no, I don’t think an open casket would be inappropriate at all. If you happen to have a picture of your mother for her to work off of that would be very helpful.”

“Thank you. Let’s go with open, then. I’m sure I can find a picture somewhere in her home, and I’ll bring it back with the dress. Is there anything else you’ll need?”

“That should be all as far as that goes. You’ll need to choose a casket next, and I’ll let you flip through some catalogs while I get the paperwork and contract together.” She rose, removed some binders from a shelf behind her desk and set them on the end table next to me. I bit my lip.

“Mrs. Henderson, I’m really completely out of my depth here. Would you mind suggesting something or pointing me in the right direction?”

She smiled. “Sure thing. Did your mother prefer silver or gold?”

I grimaced. “Gold. All of our plumbing fixtures were gold. All of them.”

She laughed. “And you must be a silver, then.”

“Absolutely.”

“Any corresponding color preference?”

“White. Or pink.”

She pulled the bottom binder from the stack, flipping through the pages rapidly. “How’s this one?”

It was a monstrosity, a glossy white finish with gold inlay, accents and handles. “It’s perfect. She would have loved it…looks just like her bathtub.”

Either my snark didn’t register, or she pretended not to notice. “It’s one we stock here as well. I could find something pink but it would take a few days to get it in. There are some less expensive models if you…”

I held up my hand. “Thanks, but this one’s fine.”

“Wonderful. I’ll get your contract and invoice ready. Won’t take but a few minutes.”

She sat at her desk and began typing on her laptop. I ran my thumb along Tom’s wrist.

“Miss Gallagher? Did you want floral arrangements?”

“Um, sure. Whatever most people do is fine.”

“How do pink roses sound?”

“Just right. Thank you.”

Her printer noisily spat out a pile of papers, and she waved me over to the chair next to her desk. I wrote quickly, my signature and words a messy blur. Embalming authorization, contract, crypt information. Once that was completed, she handed me the invoice. Twenty thousand four-hundred fifty-two dollars and seventy-six cents.

“We do offer payment plans, and if the attorney provides us with the necessary estate information only a ten percent deposit is required. You can bring that with you later as well, if you’d like. The payment plan amount due today would be five thousand dollars, the remainder paid in three additional installments over the next three months.”

“Do you accept credit cards?”

“Visa, Mastercard or American Express.” I gave her my Visa. “Thank you. I just have to run out to the main office and have Mr. Black charge the first installment…”

I interrupted her. “No, charge the full balance, please. Thanks.” Her eyes widened as she got up from her chair and left the room. I got up and went back and sat on the couch. Tom embraced me, and I rested my head on his chest. Neither of us spoke, and when we heard footsteps outside the door we disentangled ourselves.

Mrs. Henderson handed me a credit card slip to sign. I did, and she stapled it to the extra copies of the paperwork she’d printed, tucked it all in folder and passed it to me.

“Miss Gallagher, again, I’m very sorry for you loss. Thank you for choosing us to assist you. Someone will be here tonight until at least nine, and our cosmetologist is used to working odd hours, but the sooner you can have the dress and photo here the better.”

I got up and shook her hand. “No, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your making this so simple. I’ll do my best to be back here in an hour or so.”

Tom said goodbye to her as well, and as we walked out of her office he took my hand and didn’t let go until we reached the car. I looked up at him.

“Sorry about what happened in there.” I relayed what I’d been thinking about, and he embraced me again, holding me tightly in the damp heat of mid-day. He opened the passenger door after convincing me that he should drive. I got in and immediately put my head between my knees. He rubbed my back until I inhaled deeply and sat up, then exhaled.

I put my hand on his thigh and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, my Maude.”

I pulled the keys Barty had given me out of my bag, then looked at Tom, smiling sadly. “I guess it’s finally time to go back…home.”


	19. Chapter 19

The house was less than a mile from the funeral home, and I spent the entirety of the brief car ride turning the keys over and over in my hands, becoming increasingly agitated. Did she leave what was in the safe specifically for me, as Barty’s words seemed to indicate, or was it for whomever wound up stuck with the short end of the stick? If it was specifically for me, it meant she’d assumed I’d show up at some point, which made me regret that I HAD. Just the fact that I’d even crossed her mind pissed me off to no end. And then when I thought about how much money I’d just spent because she decided she wanted to put the screws to the schmuck who took on the task of burying her…it made me want to scream. I shook my head and let out an exasperated sigh instead.

Tom turned to me, the right corner of his mouth turned up in the start of a smile. “Is my driving that awful?”

“Nope. That wasn’t directed at you. I was just mulling over the fact that I just spent upwards of twenty thousand dollars on a funeral for someone I’m glad is…no longer walking among us.”

He pointed a finger in my direction, eyes still on the road. “Though I consider myself a decent human being and like to think I would have done the same, I’m not really sure that’s the case.”

“Funny you should mention the word ‘human’. When I was on the phone with Ms. Fiore from the hospice back in San Diego, irate that I was expected to dive in and take care of all this shit, I told myself that’s what I needed to do, even if it was undeserved…be human. That I was very fortunate that I had the means to be able to take care of it. That if I found a stranger lying dead in the road who had no family I’d do the right thing then, so why not for my mother? And earlier today, Anne said the reason why she got involved is because she knew my father would have wanted her to do what she could, and…house is coming up on your right, last one at the end of this block…I know he’d want me to do the same. Plus the reason I have the means is because of him.”

Tom turned into the brick horseshoe driveway and parked in front of the steps that led to the porch and main entrance. It had been pale yellow the last time I’d seen it, but now it was light grey. The landscaping was in excellent condition, and the roof looked different, which meant I either had a terrible memory or that it had been replaced. My mother never gardened, so I had to assume the loveliness of the plants was due to someone else’s green thumb. My bedroom had been all the way to the right looking straight on, and I remembered all the times I’d crawled out the middle of the three arched windows in order to escape out onto the upper deck to try and find some peace from the insanity inside. Someone always managed to find me. My phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my seat.

I pulled it out of my bag…it was Simon. I slammed my finger on the answer button as if my life depended upon it. “It’s about time you fucking called, you bastard.”

He chortled. “Fuck off, you bitch. Two way street and all that. Got your text and figured I’d give you some alone time with Thomas. How is…everything?”

“I just spent more than twenty grand to get rid of my mother once and for all.”

“Worth every penny, I bet, yeah?”

I sighed. “Yes. But I have to spend another three hundred grand if I wish to keep the ole family homestead. Home equity line of credit loan.”

“WHAT? She left you a house with that much owed on it? You’re joking, aren’t you? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“She didn’t leave me shit. Had no will on purpose, thought I wouldn’t be able to pay it off and that I’d have to sell it. But, I don’t. So I think I’m going to keep it for spite.”

“Um…fuck, never mind. You can tell me where you’re getting the money later. But this may be the most epic instance of ‘for spite’ I’ve ever heard tell of. I bow down to your greatness.” He paused. “Does this mean we can stay there during Mardi Gras? And go, like, every year?”

I laughed. “You’ve been practicing the princess wave, haven’t you?”

“Ad infinitum, if you must know. Bead tossing, too. I want to be READY.” Another pause. “How are you holding up? Do you want us to fly out for the funeral?”

“No way. Enjoy that beach, baby. So far I’m okay, but I haven’t gone into the house yet. We’re mainly here to pick up the dress she wanted to be buried in, and a photo for the mortuary’s cosmetologist. Once that’s done it’s dinner with Anne, viewing Wednesday and funeral Thursday. Hopefully we’ll be in New York Friday at some point. Which reminds me that we need to book a flight…”

Tom tapped my arm, pointed to his chest, gave me a thumbs up and began scrolling on his phone.

Simon squeaked. “I’m sorry, did you say dinner with Anne? You know, Tom would be absolute perfection as Les…”

“Simon, no. No no no no no. I have enough problems. No.”

“But can’t you just picture him in that…” 

“Fuck you. NO!”

He laughed, then cleared his throat. “Well, I’d imagine you want to get the whole house thing over with, so I’ll let you go. If you need anything, call. Luke sends his love. And says nice job getting His Royal Social-Media-Isn’t-For-Me-ness to actually post again.”

“He did that totally on his own this morning. Turns out he’s trainable. I’ll talk to you both soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Tom raised a brow in my direction. “I’m trainable?”

I shrugged. “Marginally.”

He snorted, then sobered. “You ready to go inside?”  
I sighed. “No. Is it too late to run off to Mexico or something?”

He smiled. “Never too late for that.”

“It’s such a bummer that I’m so responsible.” I unbuckled my belt, opened the door and stepped out onto the red bricks, my eyes focused on the wooden door. The keys jangled as my hands began shaking. Tom appeared beside me and took them.

“Allow me.” He walked up the stairs ahead of me and inserted the larger key in the lock. I heard the tumbler turn and click, and he gently pushed the door open. The smell that emanated from inside made me gag. It was a combination of Christian Dior’s Poison, stale sweat, urine, sickness and the faintest stench of death. She’d worn that fragrance daily, without fail, since it had been released in 1985. I’d always detested it, though the name certainly suited the content of her character. I walked back to the edge of the porch and plopped down, my feet on the steps in front of me. Tom squatted next to me, coughing.

“Christ, that was…unexpected. I pushed the door open fully, but if we’re going to be in there for more than a minute or two we should probably open some windows.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I hate that fucking perfume. This place needs…I don’t know. Do they make industrial sized containers of Febreeze? Or maybe we should just burn it down and start over.” I stood, reminded myself to breathe through my mouth and walked through the door. Tom followed. 

The house looked nothing like it had when I left…all the garish eighties wallpaper had been removed, on the main level at least, and the walls were painted a very light grey that matched the marbling on the staircase and the floor tiles. The woodwork, which my father had always refused to allow her to paint over, was now white. I made a left into the living room to open the windows, noting the white leather sofa and matching recliners, gold and glass end tables with coordinating lamps, and a matching entertainment center that held a white flat screen television. I heard Tom’s boots clacking on the marble floor.

“You weren’t kidding about the white, were you?”

I shook my head. “No. But all this stuff is new…the furniture used to be white fabric with a tiny pink floral pattern, and the TV stand and end tables were white wood. The floor used to be hardwood, too. Only the stairs were marble. I wonder what the fucking kitchen looks like.”

I walked down the hall toward the rear of the house to find that the wall between the kitchen and dining room had been demolished to create vast expanse of whiteness…the kitchen was to the right. All the appliances were white, the glossy-finish cabinets were white with glass fronts, the countertops the same marble as the floor tiles, and all the knobs, fixtures and lights were gold-plated. The island top was marble as well, and the stools around it were also gold in color. To the left was a bar area that was stylistically identical to the kitchen, but for the mirrored backsplash instead of gold metallic tile. It was fully stocked, the wine fridge nearly twice the size of the one in the kitchen area. In front of the mirrors were three tiers of shelves that ran the entire length of the eighteen foot long bar, holding a variety of liquor that would rival any commercial establishment I’d ever been to. I counted four beer taps before giving up and helping Tom open the windows and the French doors to the backyard. 

“Gee, now I know where all the money went. My father had a decent life insurance policy…he’d had it for years, so they paid up even though…anyway. It was at least six hundred thousand, if I recall correctly. That plus the home equity line of credit apparently equals a really tacky remodel. I wonder if the fuckery continues upstairs.”

He smiled, then put his arm around me and kissed me on top of the head. “Only one way to find out.” He then pulled me into a full embrace, his voice barely a whisper. “You okay, love?”

I nodded. “I think the fact that it looks nothing like it did when I lived here is incredibly beneficial to my ability to maintain some degree of sanity.”

“Good.” He rubbed my back, then released me. We walked back to the front of the house, and the smell was once again overwhelming. There was one downstairs room we hadn’t entered yet, one that I didn’t want to go in but knew I’d have to because that’s where the wall safe was…the study. And that seemed to be where the stench originated from. I pushed all the thoughts that began running through my mind aside and climbed the steps. 

The hardwoods on the second floor had been replaced with the same marble as the first. There had originally been four bedrooms, one master, two average and one small. The master had an en suite, and there was another full bath with access via the hall. At first glance I only saw three doors, the one that had been the entrance to the master missing. I walked all the way down the hall to what used to be the main bathroom and opened what was now the only door on the left side of the house.

The entire space was a giant master bedroom suite, with fuchsia walls and white woodwork. All the furniture was white, including the canopy bed that sported a fuchsia coverlet and curtains, and white pillows with pink floral patterns. The room drapes were white, but with a heavy backing to block out sunlight. To the left side of the sleeping area was an open closet area, bursting at the seams but neatly organized by color, including the pairs of shoes too numerous to count. In the middle of it all was a white vanity and seating area for dressing. To the right of the sleeping area was an open door, and I couldn’t help but peek inside. The theme was the same as the old master bath, white with gold fixtures, but the tub had been replaced with a jetted version that could easily fit four people. Gone was the fiberglass shower stall, in its place a metallic gold tiled walk-in with glass doors. The toilet was tucked away behind a pocket door. It was, to my horror, gold. As was the sink.

I turned around to find Tom staring at me. He raised a brow. “Are you unquestionably certain that you’re related to this woman?”

“Sadly, yes. This is…I feel like I’m on some sort of home decorating ambush show and I’m waiting for that nice Texas couple to pop out and be like ‘just kidding, we’re going to redo the whole thing for y’all’ but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” I looked at all the pink in the closet and realized I’d left the picture in the car. Tom put his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll go out and get it.”

I gave him my ‘what the fuck’ face. He grinned sheepishly.

“Apparently you’re not the only mind reader in this relationship any longer.”

“Don’t delve too deep in there, Thomas. It’s a scary fucking place to be.”

He laughed and ran down the stairs while I attempted to choose the correct dress from memory. I knew it was hot pink and floor length, so I started with those. Long sleeved…only three of that style. One was a print, so that was out. V-neck or boat? Not a clue. I waited for Tom, hearing him bound back up the steps, most likely two at a time.

I held up both dresses for him and he compared them to the photo. “It’s the one in your right hand. For sure.” The V-neck with the crossed bodice and sweeping train. I hung the boat neck back up and Tom took the V-neck from me and slung it over his shoulder, holding the hanger with his right hand.

“It’s long. I’m taller. Easier for me to carry.”

He was smiling softly, and the warmth and tenderness I saw in his eyes was staggeringly beautiful. I put both hands on his chest and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him. His left arm slid around my waist as he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, and I bit his tongue gently in return and pushed my hips against him. He grunted, then whined when I pulled away.

I cupped his bulge and he bucked against my hand. “Soon, baby. Soon.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Not soon enough. Never soon enough.”

“Tell me about it.” I fanned myself. “Damn, it’s hot as hell in here.”

He grinned wolfishly. “I know of someplace else hot as hell that I’d like to be in right now.” 

I moaned and bit my lip. “Tell me that it would be wildly inappropriate to fuck you in my parents’ bedroom right after picking out my mother’s burial garment. And say it with authority.”

He kept grinning but didn’t utter a single word.

I grabbed his hand and led him out of the room. “Have I mentioned how thoroughly unhelpful you are?” 

The grinning continued as we began to check out the other two rooms, both with their own en suite baths and closets. One was painted emerald green with white furniture and green and gold accents, the other was painted black with white trim…black furniture, black drapes, black tile in the shower and gold accents and fixtures. The bed was raised on a black lacquered frame with gold dragons painted along both sides. The headboard had two giant golden dragons in the center, intertwined in a sixty-nine position. There was a fifty inch black flat screen on the wall across from a black leather loveseat, and an Onkyo sound system on a gold and glass entertainment center underneath. There was also a Playstation 3 and an Xbox 360, as well as a huge collection of games. In the corner were two guitars, and it dawned on me that this must have been Will’s man cave. Or boy-toy cave, as the case may be. I let go of Tom’s hand and ran out into the hallway, bending over with my hands on my thighs as panic tried to overtake me.

He came running out after me, placing one hand on my lower back while leaning down and in so he could meet my gaze. When I didn’t say anything, the only sound that of my rapid breathing, he pulled me upright and folded me into his arms, his hand on the back of my head as he pushed it gently to his chest. I focused on the smell of his skin, his clothes…the smell of him…and tried to get myself back under control. I raised my head and looked into his eyes.

“Christ. That fucking sucked. Sorry. And thanks.”

“No, I’m sorry. It didn’t hit me until it was too late…I should have equated video game consoles with someone other than your mother immediately, and you don’t have a brother, so…”

“So not your fault. It’s okay. I’m okay. Let’s go downstairs and see what’s in the safe so we can get the fuck out of here. Oh, and a photo, too. Which I have seen none of. Which is weird, since the place used to be loaded with them. Of her, mainly. And some of my dad. And me, but only of when I was a pretty baby.”

He frowned at my comment, nodded, then went back into the bedroom to retrieve the dress he’d left on the bed prior to coming out to take care of me. He went down first and placed it on the living room couch, then turned to me.

“So, where’s this safe?”

I pointed as I turned to the closed door to our left. “It’s in there…in the…the study.” I wasn’t sure if he remembered that my father had taken his life in that room, but when he stepped between me and the door his expression clearly indicated that he did indeed. He put his hands on the sides of my upper arms.

“You do not have to go in there.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the paper that had combination to the safe written on it. “I’ll go in and get everything for you, all right?”

I shook my head. “Thank you, but I think I do have to go in there. I need to deal with this. I need to face this. Burying it and pretending it never happened let me be capable of functioning, but it didn’t let me heal. Or let me live. I never wanted either of those things before. But now I do. I want to be…whole. So. Yeah. I’m going in.” 

I walked around him and tried the door. It was locked. He passed me the keys. The main door key fit, and I heard the lock click as it opened. I turned the knob, closed my eyes pushed, and the stench nearly made me pass out. I heard Tom behind me.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…what IS that?” 

I opened my eyes, felt for the light switch, flicked it upward and what I saw was far, far more disgusting than the smell. The study had been redone as well, yet another white room with white furniture and a marble floor. All of that shiny, clean white was eclipsed by the clothes, boxes, papers, garbage and empty liquor bottles that littered the floor and were piled halfway up the walls and nearly to the ceiling in some spots. The office furniture had been pushed towards the street side of the room where the bay window was, which was hidden behind dark red draperies. A double bed was crammed into the nook near the washroom, which though it had always been in the study, appeared to be twice as large. At what seemed to be the foot was a small flat screen mounted on the wall, and a laptop rested on the minscule bare area on the floor next to the bed. There was a small refrigerator on the same side of the room as the television, as well as a microwave on a movable utility cart and a pantry-like cabinet on its other side. I took a step forward and felt my foot squish into something, then looked down to discover it was a dirty adult diaper. My hand flew to my mouth as I gagged.

Once the heaves were over I turned around, immediately noting that Tom was white as a ghost. “Tom, why don’t you go sit down? You don’t look so good.”

He shook his head, looked down at my feet, saw the diaper and retched as he turned away. I could see him swallowing repeatedly, then he turned back in my direction. “I’m staying with you. Sorry…I…”

I held up my hand. “No need to explain.” 

As I walked further into the room, more mindful of where I was putting my feet, I realized that the walls were entirely covered with photographs of my mother from all stages of her life as well as pictures of her and Will, and Will alone. There were none of my father, nor of me. Tom had come inside and was right behind me.

“Why are there no pictures of you? Or your Dad?”

I shrugged. “Well, she hated me…and I guess she hated him too, after. I’m surprised at the Will stuff, though.” I pointed at one of their wedding shots. “Oh look, the happy adulterous couple. Such an inspiration.” 

He stared at it for a moment. “Do you think, perhaps, that she really cared for him?”

The snarky reply that was on the tip of my tongue dissolved as I remembered Anne saying his leaving had hurt her terribly. I examined the photographs more closely…there they were at the base of the Eifel Tower, posing at night with the London Eye in the background, at the top of the Empire State Building, in a gondola in Venice, standing at the feet of the Sphinx. Shots taken on cruise ship decks, on hikes, around New Orleans. In all of them, she was smiling. There was one in particular that struck me, most likely taken right after they’d married. She was mid-laugh, her black hair shining, her makeup perfect, teeth whiter than white, the only tiny flaw the crow’s feet around her eyes. To me, at least, she appeared to be much older than she actually was at the time. I decided it was ideal for the cosmetologist, and as I yanked it off the wall I noticed there was writing on the back.

“Mary, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, and the only woman I’m ever GONNA love. – William” 

“I wouldn’t have thought it possible for her to care about anyone other than herself, but…maybe she did. That changes nothing for me, but it certainly does explain all…” I held out my hands, palms up. “…this. I thought the house was so clean because someone had come in and taken care of it all after she went into hospice, but now I’m leaning towards she spent the past god knows how long drinking herself to death in this room because what she said would always happen to me happened to her.”

I pursed my lips and exhaled as he took the picture from me. “In that moment, she was right around the age I am now. Please tell me I don’t look that fucking old.”

He studied it, looking back and forth from it to me and then back again. “If you stood side by side, you as you are now and her the way she was then, she’d still look old enough to be your mother.” He smiled. “You have her eyes, and her nose. Which is something you probably don’t want to hear, but seeing where you came from makes me feel…I don’t know, really. Like I was with you all your life, I suppose. Do you have any photos of your father?”

I shook my head, my voice much softer than normal. “No. I wish I did.”

He took my hand. “Maybe there’s one hidden around here somewhere. And some of you as well. I have an overwhelming compulsion to see baby Maude.”

I snorted. “Well, that was the only Maude she thought was worthy of her attention, so there’s a tiny sliver of hope for you.” I walked over to the bathroom door. “I don’t want to go in here, but the safe used to be on the wall next to it and now that wall is bathroom so odds are that’s where I’ll find it.”

Opening the door unveiled an entirely new horror. It had been upgraded to a full four-piece washroom, and the shower/tub combo was piled high with more used adult diapers, which meant she hadn’t been doing much bathing, if any. There were boxes of clean ones stacked next to the toilet, and the layer of filth on the marble floor made it look tan instead of white. The counter was littered with empty booze bottles and prescription medications, and the built in sink was stained with coffee and god knows what else. Above the toilet was a painting of a pink rose. I made my way through the grossness and lifted it off to reveal the safe.

“TADA! Right where I thought it would be. Go me.”

Tom stuck his head in the room, saw the diapers, and swallowed down another gag. “Is that wall thicker than the rest? Is that how they do it?”

I nodded. “It’s not a very deep safe. Mostly designed for documents and stuff. But I think the wall is thicker, yes. Which is why it wasn’t relocated. Of course, I’m totally pulling that right out of my ass, so…”

He snickered, and I chuckled. “Yeah, so anyway…will you hand me that combination, please?”

I turned to watch him walk delicately across the floor, trying to not step on anything. I felt met him halfway.

“Thanks.” I rotated the dial left three times, stopped on twenty, right twice, stopped on thirty-seven and then left once more and stopped at eleven. The lock clicked and I pulled the dial to open the door. Inside was a small box, approximately eight inches by eight inches. It was brown leather with a tapestry fabric inset, maroon with a gold Fleur de Lis pattern. The U-shaped clasp was gold, as was the small padlock run through it. I picked it up and was surprised by the weight…three pounds or so, if I had to guess. And I had no idea what it could possibly contain. I weaved my way through the garbage obstacle course and back out to Tom.

“I think I’m going to take this to the kitchen to open it. The filth is kinda getting to me.”

He held his arm out. “Lead the way, my lady. I’m exhausted from resisting the urge to vomit, myself.”

The air, though thick due to the humidity, was much fresher at the back of the house. As I set the box down on the counter opposite the stools I realized I had no clue what I’d done with the keys. I looked sideways at Tom and saw them in his hand. He jingled them at me and placed them next to the box, smiling.

“You left them in the door.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oy. I’m devolving.” I picked them up and grasped the small gold key that matched the padlock. Swallowing hard, I fit the key into the lock and turned. Part of me wished it wouldn’t work, that the lock was broken…something. Instead it popped open, and I removed it and set it next to the box on the counter. I rested my fingers on the lid and paused, lost in my thoughts until I felt Tom’s hand on my back.

I turned to meet his gaze. “I have no idea what could be in here, Tom. Or if it’s even specifically for me. And I don’t want to know, truthfully. But I’m going to open it anyway, because…well, I’m not sure why. Go big or go home, I guess. Despite the fact that every fiber of my being is telling me to run away.”

I lifted the lid, slowly, as if I fully expected a starving carnivorous beast to leap out and swallow me whole. The first item, placed on top of whatever else the box contained, was a weathered piece of white construction paper folded in quarters. I recognized it immediately as I unfolded it, my name in childish print in the lower right corner. Tom spoke as he peered over my shoulder at it.

“When did you draw that?”

I didn’t answer him right away, and my hands began to tremble.

He slipped his arm around my waist. “Maude?”

I breathed in through my nose and out my mouth. “I was in first grade. It was right after summer had ended, and the teacher, Miss Cantrel, asked us to draw a picture of what we thought would be a fun family vacation. I’d been begging to go to Disney World but my mother always said it was a stupid waste of money, so I drew my dad and me there by ourselves.” I pointed. “With Mickey Mouse ear hats that had our names embroidered on them.”

He rested his chin on my shoulder. “I can’t help but notice that your mother is absent from the picture.”

I nodded. “She couldn’t help but notice it, either. When I brought it home and showed it to my dad he brought it to her because he loved it, and she demanded to know why she wasn’t in it. I told her that Mickey wouldn’t let her into Disney World because only nice people were allowed to go there and she wasn’t nice, she was really, really mean. She slapped me so hard she split my lip open, and my father lost it and lifted his hand to hit her and she told him ‘lay one hand on me and I’ll take her away and you’ll never see either of us again’.”

He growled under his breath.

I wanted to scream, cry, and throw things but opted to appear as if I had my shit together, so I simply shrugged. “Guess that solves the ‘is this box for me’ mystery.”

The next item was another piece of paper, ruled and steno-sized, folded in half. My name was scrawled in a haphazard semblance of her once-perfect penmanship across the front in black ink. Tom’s fingers dug into my waist as I opened it.

You’re ugly, you’re fat, you’re worthless and no one will ever love you. You ruined my life. You bring nothing but disappointment, misery, pain and DEATH to everyone unfortunate enough to be around you. Your fault. All of it. Always. Every night the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep is how I wish you’d never been born, and I’m sure it will be the last thought I have before I die. It was probably your father’s, too. 

I knew he’d finished reading when I felt his stomach muscles contract against my side as he gasped. I threw the note across the counter and turned my attention back to the box. Whatever remained inside was hidden beneath a piece of maroon velvet patterned with tiny gold polka-dots. I pinched a piece between my thumb and index finger and pulled as if I were a magician trying to remove a tablecloth without disturbing a single place setting. When I saw what it had been covering everything stopped, but for the pounding of my heart, which seemed to have risen into my throat. My jaw dropped open, my hand flew to cover my mouth in a vain attempt to keep myself silent.

It was stainless steel, compact and sleek. A 357 Magnum, Smith & Wesson model number 60. My father’s revolver. THE revolver. The one he’d put in his mouth, pointed upward, and…bang. Game over. I could feel my legs growing weak, and I sank down onto my knees on the cold, hard marble, Tom’s voice sounding distant, a million miles away from where I was.

“Is that…ohmygod…what the FUCK…” Even as he knelt next to me and put his hands on my shoulders it still felt like he wasn’t really there. I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t see anything, other than the image my mind had conjured up of my father picking up the gun, pulling the hammer back, putting it in his mouth, closing his lips around it, pulling the trigger…then the top of his head exploding outward in a spray of blood and grey matter and bone fragments. 

And that’s what finally broke me.

I began rocking back and forth, hands over my ears, repeating ‘It’s all my fault. ALL MY FAULT.’ over and over again until I was sobbing so hard that I could no longer speak. It continued until I was gasping for breath, and then the screaming started. Angry, desperate, anguished screams full of grief, and pain, and guilt. 

Tom had his arms around me, rocking with me, saying things I couldn’t understand. I only knew he was making sounds. My thoughts strayed from my father to my mother, and my anger turned to rage. Red clouded my vision and I was…gone. Only physical sensation remained, fight over flight. I pounded my fists on the hard floor until hands grabbed my wrists and held them still. I fought free, only to be restrained once more. I tried to stand but was dragged back down. I put my feet out in front of me, braced myself and attempted to propel myself backwards and away to no avail. I rose up on my knees so I would be face to face with my captor, glaring at him without a shred of recognition for several long moments, until the crimson haze faded and I realized it was Tom. He saw that I was back, released my hands and pulled me against his chest. I pushed myself away, weeping again.

“Maybe she’s right to have wished that I’d never been born. Sometimes I wish the same thing. I’m nothing but a fucking coward. I set all this into motion because I never had the balls to stand up to her until it was too late. If I’d put her in her fucking place when she met Erik, he would have come home with me that weekend. He wouldn’t have died. If he hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have started drinking. If I hadn’t started drinking, I wouldn’t have met and married Will. If I hadn’t met Will, my mother wouldn’t have met Will. And she wouldn’t have fucked him. And my father wouldn’t have fucking ended himself. He’d still be here, in this house, living his life.”

I put my head in my hands and began sobbing again. Tom tried to comfort me, but I backed away further.

“All these years, Tom. The guilt. THE GUILT. It’s been eating me alive. My inaction is responsible for the deaths of three people I loved. People who loved me, or would have loved me if they’d had the chance to. Erik, our child, and my father. That’s why I never wanted to face this. How am I supposed to go on? How am I supposed to let anyone love me when everyone who ever has is dead because of me?”

He held out his hands, beckoning to me. I shook my head. He slid himself closer to me. “Maude, you didn’t set anything into motion. None of this is your fault. NONE. OF. IT. That’s just a bunch of shit your mother drilled into you since you were a little girl so she could surrender her own responsibilities and have someone to blame for everything that she fucked up. Erik’s death…I can see why you’d feel as if it did, but it had nothing to do with you. You can’t ask yourself ‘what if’ about those kind of things without going mad. He could have insisted that he accompany you, or he could have stayed in the city. The choice to go home was his, and the real blame lies with the drunk driver who killed him. You lost everything, so you turned to alcohol so you could be numb enough to keep breathing. It happens, as I know all too well. As for marrying Will…based on everything you’ve told me, I’m of the opinion that he duped you into it. He knew your tolerance level, waited until you exceeded it and blacked out, then convinced you to marry him knowing full well you were in no condition to make such a decision, and that you’d never be able remember what really happened that night.”

I frowned, my weeping reduced to a few errant tears running down my cheeks. That had never even crossed my mind. “I have not a clue why he would have done such a thing.”

Tom shrugged. “Money, maybe?” He paused. “Or maybe he was trying to get to your mother? And her money?”

My jaw dropped, and I felt like the piece of the puzzle that was the right color and shape but never quite fit finally locked into place. He’d known my name before I told him when we met, which wasn’t that unusual. Or so I’d thought. When I moved into his place, after he’d asked me why I’d want to do such a thing when I was rich enough to find us something much nicer, I revealed that I didn’t even have enough funds to live on my own. The news hadn’t exactly sat well with him. We’d never said we loved each other prior to the night we got married, and I’d been shocked when he’d insisted I’d said it then. Neither of us had reiterated the phrase afterward, either. Had he sought me out only because he knew my family was well off? Had I been nothing to him all along, other than a means to get to my mother and her wealth? I felt like a damn fool, a complete failure…and the waterworks were back in full effect.

“God, how could I have been so STUPID?”

“You weren’t stupid. You were grieving. Self-medicating, at an emotional low point…and he took advantage of that, the bloody bastard. And Maude, if anyone set things in motion that resulted in your father’s death it was your MOTHER. She cheated. She fell in love with someone else. She wanted a divorce. That was her doing, not yours. But that’s all she was…a catalyst. Because the only person truly responsible for pulling that trigger was your father. No matter the reasons why. Ultimately, it was his choice, his decision, and his alone. He is the culpable party. No one else. Especially not you.”

I inched closer to him, which he took as an invitation to touch me, placing his hand on my shin. “You know this already, but I have to say it because if I don’t I’ll explode. That woman…how did she ever dare to refer to herself as your mother? What she did to you…the way she treated you… the names she called you…how she manipulated you and led you to believe that you were to blame for everything that ever didn’t go the way she wanted it to and…GOD. All of it, every last bit is the polar opposite of what a mother is supposed to be.”

Thinking of her this time filled me not with fury, but instead with a deep-seated, enormous sorrow as I mourned what I’d always wanted but would never have. I began sobbing again, which quickly turned to wailing. I spoke through it, my voice raw, pained and ragged. 

“I…I never understood what I did to make her ha..ha.. hate me. I still d.. don’t. How do you hate your own ch..child? How is that possible? You’re supposed to l…lo…LOVE them.” My anger retuned, reducing my wailing to frustrated tears. “She never LOVED me. Why didn’t she love me? I was her BABY. All I ever wanted was for her to be my mom. That’s all. My MOM. But she never was. And she never will be.”

Tom took me in his arms and I fell apart again. Keening and screaming ‘why’ over and over as he cradled my head in his hand and rubbed my back. Time passed and my roaring lament became a whisper. He held me tighter, fingers making circles between my shoulder blades, repeatedly murmuring ‘I love you’ in my ear, drawing my focus back to the present. Eventually, I raised my head so I could wipe my nose with my forearm and got a look at his shirt.

“Oh fuck me…you’re like, bathing in my snot, dude. Wow. Sorry.”

And with that, I knew I was going to get through this.

He smiled briefly before his expression changed, growing serious. “Maude, please don’t wish that you’d never been born ever again. The world is a better place for you being in it, and I’m a better man for having met you and incredibly fortuitous to be the recipient of your love. Envisioning a world without you in it…it’s too much for my soul to bear.”

“Thomas. You’re killing me with the silvertongue. Totally going to cry again if you don’t shut your yap.”

He kissed my forehead and I wrapped my arms around him. 

“Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’re here?”

He nodded. “You have. I’m glad as well.”

I sniffed. “Don’t know how I’d be doing it if you weren’t.”

Another kiss and a smile. “But I am, so that’s not a question that needs answering.”

I smiled back. “Good thing, because I’m kind of out of fucking answers.”

“That, I believe, is not even remotely possible.”

I sighed. “Yeah. It’s not.” I released him, stood and went over to the sink. There were paper towels for blowing my nose, and a cloth dish towel that looked suitable for washing my face. I wet a few of the paper kind and brought them to Tom, who remained seated on the floor. 

“The snot removal brigade has arrived. Here.” He thanked me and I began to clean myself up. As soon as I thought I’d done an adequate job, I turned around to look for the garbage can and my heart stopped. Tom had gotten up and was standing in front of the box, the revolver in his hand with the muzzle pointed towards his stomach. I wanted to scream, but was terrified it would make him flinch. From my vantage point I couldn’t tell if his finger was on the trigger. I approached him slowly, from the side so he’d notice me. He looked up and met my gaze.

“Hi. Do me a favor and don’t move until I tell you to, okay?”

He looked puzzled, but complied.

“Being careful to not squeeze, take your finger off the trigger right now, please.”

I watched as he eased it back and away.

“Good. Now point the muzzle away from you and toward the bar. Slowly. Then set it on the counter.”

One that was done I shoved him over a solid two feet and he looked at me like I’d lost my mind completely.

I spoke softly, but firmly. “I don’t know if that’s loaded or not.”

He frowned. “But I didn’t pull back the hammer, so…”

I shook my head. “That’s a Smith & Wesson model 60. They’re double action. That means you can fire them by cocking the hammer OR by pulling the trigger. No safety, either. You should never, ever point a gun at something you wouldn’t want to shoot.”

His face had paled. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t…I’ve only handled prop guns before and…”

“It’s okay. My dad…he always had one in the house for protection. He taught me about gun safety and how to shoot when I was fourteen.” I picked it up off the counter, and popped the barrel out to the side. Six chambers, five bullets. I turned it so Tom could see, then removed them all. “Fucking loaded. Maybe the crazy bitch was hoping I’d kill myself, too.”

Tom snorted. “I wouldn’t put that past her.”

I wrapped the bullets in several paper towels and put them in the box with the gun, put the velvet scrap back in place, closed it and locked it. “This is going back in the safe. Like, now.” 

I grabbed the papers from the counter as well and walked up front to the study, shoved it all in the safe, closed the door and turned the dial to engage the locking mechanism. Tom was waiting out in the hall for me, hands in his pockets and gazing down at the floor.

“Maude, again, I’m very, very sorry.” 

I put my arms through his and embraced him. “Man, that scared the fuck all out of me. But all that matters is that you’re okay. Are you okay?”

He nodded, arms wrapped around me, lips on my neck, breathing me in.

“Good. Let’s make like a tree and leave, shall we? I’ve already exceeded my maximum allotment for number of nervous breakdowns in a single day by like, fifty and I don’t think I’m done yet. The sooner I get them over with, the better. Then I can have a lovely dinner. And after that I can have you.”

He chuckled. “Who says you have to wait until after dinner?”

I grinned. “Guess I’m becoming a fan of delayed gratification.”

He groaned, released me and went back to retrieve the dress and photo from the living room. We closed everything, used the guest room bathroom upstairs, locked up, then got in the car and headed back to the funeral home.

****************************************  
Tom had volunteered to run in, and he wasn’t gone for more than two minutes when he rang my phone.

“Hi. I missed you.”

I laughed. “What do you need?”

“I’m deeply offended that you think I have an ulterior motive.”

“But you do.”

He sighed. “I do. Mr. Black has informed me that they neglected to inquire as to who you wished to hire to conduct the service on Thursday.”

“Um…well…can they just pick a Protestant minister for me? They can give him my number in case there are questions.”

“I’m on it.”

I shook my head and stopped myself from making a lewd comment. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.“ His voice dropped several octaves. “And I’d rather be on you.” 

I was about to reply when I realized he’d hung up. Seconds later I spotted him jogging to the car. He opened the door and folded himself into the driver’s seat, then leaned over to kiss me, tongue running over my lips and thrusting inside as I opened my mouth to him. He accidentally bumped the horn, scaring the crap out of us both. We laughed, and he turned the motor over.

“Where to, my love? Food? Back to the hotel?”

I’d been thinking about that since we’d left the house, and after checking my phone and seeing the place I had in mind was only five miles from here, I decided to get it over with. I put my hand on his knee.

“I don’t want to put you though any more bullshit today, but…when my dad died, I never really got to say goodbye to him. No time for grief, none of that. And I know I can take care of this on Thursday after my mother’s interment since he’s in the same place but…”

He put his hand over mine. “You’d like a chance to do it in private. Without her there. I understand. Just tell me where to go.”

The Greenwood Cemetery had begun construction on the Garden Mausoleum section in 1982. Located just inside the cemetery’s main gates, it was peaceful and serene, with lush greenery and several fountains. My mother had chosen it when my father died, mainly because it was ‘the’ place to be buried at the time. The Garden Crypts were free-standing structures that could accommodate two to six interments. We walked along, hand in hand, until we found him. Sean Patrick Gallagher, born February 15th, 1959, died May 25th, 1998. I ran my finger along the text. Tom let go of my hand.

“I’ll go wait over…”

I shook my head. “You don’t have to. But if you want to, that’s totally fine.”

He took my hand again. “Well, I’ll be right here, then.”

I smiled sadly. “I know it’s probably nutty to talk to someone who’s been dead for so long, especially when you’re like me and have serious doubts about there being any life after this, but…”

He squeezed. “It’s not.”

I swallowed nervously, then spoke. No time like the present, right? “Um…uh…hi, Dad. I don’t know if you can hear me, or see me, or whatever but…I wanted you to know a few things. First, I was really, really pissed at you for killing yourself for a long time. I felt like you let her win, and I hated that. So much. And you left me alone on this planet while she was still on it too. But I understand why you did it now. I’m still really angry that you DID, but I understand. You loved her more than anything else in this world. Even me. And that’s okay. But loving someone like that gives them the power to destroy you, and she did exactly that. And you didn’t want to live with it. I get it. And I forgive you for it.”

The crying had begun yet again.

“I also wanted to say thank you. For buying me a place in New York, because that gave me somewhere to run to. And for leaving me your Exxon stock, because that made my life so much less stressful. And I want to thank you for coming to me before you…died…and telling me that I needed to stop drinking, that I had my whole life ahead of me, that I needed to get out of New Orleans and away from…her. And that I was brilliant and I had to go out and make my life MEAN something. You were right, and I did it all, every single thing. What really sucks is that if you hadn’t killed yourself, I’m not sure I would have. But I did, and I guess that’s what counts.”

I paused to catch my breath. “She died this week. She’ll be right here, at your side again, in two days. I hope that’s what you would have wanted in spite of everything. Me, I’ll be glad to finally close this ridiculously long chapter of my life. And the most important thing you need to know, if any of this gets through or whatever, is that there’s not just a new chapter of my life ahead of me, but a brand new book. I started it already, and I can’t wait to see where it goes.”

I smiled and Tom kissed my cheek.

“Oh, by the way, this is Tom. He’s the most incredible human being I’ve ever been blessed to know. And an actor. And a ton of other things. All of which I love. But most of all, I love…him. Never thought I’d be able to say that about anyone after…everything. But I can. And it’s the most amazing gift I’ve ever been given. Worth every second of the thirty-seven years I spent waiting to meet him. I wish you were here. You’d like him. Very much. And if we wind up having a kid or two, I’ll be so, so sad that you’ll never get to see them, but I’ll tell them about you. I promise. I love you, Daddy. I miss you. I hope you found the peace you were looking for.” I touched his name again, my voice a faint whisper. “Goodbye.”

I turned to Tom, and we held each other as we wept. The hot sun beat down on us, making me wish for a huge bottle of cold, clear water. And ice cream. 

I lifted my head from his shoulder, brushed the tears from his cheeks, and he did the same for me. 

I rocked back and forth on the soles of my feet. “So. I want ice cream. Do you want ice cream? Let’s get ice cream.”

He laughed. “Yes, lets. But I have to take care of something first.” He disentangled himself from me and went back to my father’s crypt. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Gallagher, I’m Tom. I wish we could have met in person, but this will have to suffice. I am thoroughly besotted with your daughter. She is beautiful, strong, talented, hilarious, feisty and so much more. I love her more than I could have ever imagined it was possible to love someone. There’s something I’d like to ask you…” His voice trailed off and he cupped his hand to his mouth, whispering against the stone, then pausing as if he was waiting for an answer. He nodded. “Thank you, sir.” 

I stood there, dumbfounded. He was grinning from ear to ear.

I spread my arms, palms up. “Aaaannndd…may I inquire as to what you asked him?”

He shook his head. “Nope. That’s between him and me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t suppose he answered you.”

He put his hand under my chin, lifting it so our eyes met, grin replaced by a soft smile. “I’d like to think he did.”

The flora that surrounded us altered the color of his eyes to the most beautiful greenish-blue shade…my designer’s brain couldn’t quite pin a name on it, which hadn’t ever happened before. And what I saw in them, and what he’d done…I started bawling again.

He let go of my chin and placed his hand on my shoulder as he leaned in so his face was inches from mine. “Please tell me those are happy tears.”

I swatted his upper arm. “Yes. They are. You asshole.”

He threw his head back, his laugh echoing through the quiet of the cemetery. “We’d best go get that ice cream.” He took my hand as we walked towards the gates. “Has anyone ever told you that you get a bit cranky when you’re hungry?”

I flipped him off, and he laughed again as he put his arm around my shoulders, holding me at his side until we reached the car. I took a last look at the gates before I got in and felt grateful, despite all I’d experienced over the course of the day, for how much my life had changed since I’d last been inside those walls all those years ago. And suddenly, like an apple falling on Newton’s head, it hit me that maybe I’d found the peace I was looking for, too.


	20. Chapter 20

Hot fudge ran down my chin as I slurped up another bite of my Sky Scraper sundae. Cookies & cream, chocolate and vanilla ice cream with layers of caramel, hot fudge and crushed Oreos topped with whipped cream, sprinkles and a cherry. The wafer that had been jammed into it had been snapped up by Tom before the waitress even managed to set it on the table.

“This. THIS is ice cream.” My eyes closed as I licked the spoon clean for the umpteenth time. We were seated in the rear of the Creole Creamery, at a round table behind a row of booths. It was two miles or so from the hotel, and we’d decided to try something local instead of yet another chain…totally the right call. On the walls around us were photos of previous guests, pinned to corkboard with the motto ‘Eat Ice Cream. Be Happy.’ painted above them. Words to live by, according to the book of Maude.

Tom offered me a spoonful of his Cookie Monster sundae, which consisted of cookie monster ice cream, crushed Oreos, chocolate chip cookies and a generous helping of hot fudge, all topped with whipped cream, cookie crumbles, a cherry, and a wafer. He’d eaten that one, too. I’d taken a picture for him to post as he posed looming over the sundae, head down, spoon in his hand and mouth open wide. He’d uploaded it everywhere.

The Cookie Monster Sundae. Eating it RIGHT NOW. #delayedgratification, #idon’thinkso, #settingabadexample, #sorrynotsorry

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue to receive the spoon. He slid it along the center until I closed my lips around it, and I wasn’t sure if the moan that followed was because the ice cream was so delicious or if it was due to the fact that I wished it was his cock instead. I shut my eyes as he pulled the utensil free, ever so slowly. When I opened them he was staring at me, licking his lips.

I kicked him under the table. “Stop that right now, young man. I am finishing this ice cream. Finishing. It.”

He leaned all the way across the table, up off his seat and bent at the waist, in order to whisper in my ear. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that the dress you were wearing, sans panties, when I fucked you up against the wall of the bathroom at Talk Story?”

I was up out of my chair before he finished his question, grabbing my bag off the floor. “You know what? I think I’m full. Yep. Full. Time to go.”

He followed me out to the car, chuckling when I got in the driver’s side and sat behind the wheel.

I glared at him. “Shut up. Get in. Move it.” He’d barely buckled his belt when I pulled out onto the street.

I made it back to the hotel in record time, and as soon as I put it park Tom’s mouth was on mine, one hand working its way up my thigh to the promised land. I slid my hand down the back of his pants, cupping one ass cheek and pulling it to the side. He grunted and broke the kiss.

“In. Side. Inside. Room. Now.”

We booked up the steps to the second floor, and Tom had to swipe the keycard three times because he was doing it so quickly it wouldn’t register. He pushed me in before him, closed the door with his foot and pinned me up against it, grinding his rock-hard cock into me, circling his hips and intermittently thrusting forward, eyes on mine the entire time.

I looked down as I reached to unbutton his jeans, then unzipped them carefully and took him in hand, stroking up and down, using the fluid drooling from the tip as lubricant.

He whimpered, a long, drawn out sound that made me so wet I was certain I’d leak through my cotton undies and start dripping on the floor. He began pawing at my dress, unzipping the back and working it over my shoulders, and I was forced to let him go in order to pull my arms out. It hung up at my hips, and he gave it a pull and it fell to a heap on the floor. He caught sight of the giant wet spot that my crotch had become and sank to his knees, breathing me in before pulling the fabric into his mouth and sucking on it, continuing to do so as he slid them down my legs with his hands. I stepped out of them, and my dress, leaving me clad only in my bra. I shed it instantly on my own as he removed his clothing, nearly falling as he tried to take his boots off without sitting down. He steadied himself and kissed me, and I could taste myself on him, though only faintly. He pulled away and flopped on his back in the middle of the bed, legs hanging off the bottom, a space of a foot or more between him and the headboard.

I raised a brow, unmoving. “Whatcha doin’ there, Thomas?”

He patted his upper chest. “I need to taste you. Sit.”

I looked at the headboard, sizing it up to see if I could get a good enough grip so I could hold myself up and not crush him. I shook my head as I climbed into the space between him and the headboard, high on my knees, spread wide as I raised my arms and latched onto the wooden frame in front of me.

“Nuh-uh. If I sit I’m going to ride you so hard I’m afraid I’ll wind up breaking your nose or something.”

“Maude, don’t be ridiculous. You won’t…”

“Thomas. Trust me. Now slide up under me and get to work, won’t you?”

He wrapped his arms around my thighs and pushed himself into position, using his hands to spread my lips open.

“Mmm, the view from here rivals a Hawaiian sunset. Endless shades of pink and purple, glistening as if it were the sky reflecting on the water.”

I was about to tell him to shut the fuck up when I felt his tongue start at my taint and drag painstakingly slowly up to my clit, pausing to flick, then circle it. When he stopped I whined, until I felt it enter me.

“Fucking hell, Tom.” Something began rubbing my clit…I wasn’t certain what, but it didn’t matter. Not one single bit. His tongue delved deeper, and I began to swivel my hips and rise up and down, fucking it. He held still, and I came in what seemed like seconds, screaming his name, head hanging between my arms as I held onto the headboard for dear life. I tried to lift a knee, but he held me in place, laughing.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

I panted. “Off.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. That was just the appetizer, love. Main course is up next, and I’m famished.”

He gorged himself on me, licking, slurping, tongue inside me again and swirling against my walls, tugging my clit gently between his teeth and then sucking it into his mouth, pulling harder and harder until I came again, and then again when he worked two fingers inside me and rubbed my G-spot furiously as he continued his relentless sucking. I hadn’t even realized that he’d stopped until I felt him behind me, feverish and sweaty, nipples hard against my back, cock nudging at my entrance. I pushed my hips back, and we groaned in unison as the head slipped in.

He growled in my ear. “Is there room for dessert?”

I nodded emphatically. “Always.”

His arms wrapped around me, hands on my breasts, lifting them, squeezing the nipples firmly. I felt his cock moving forward, dragging against my oversensitive flesh until he was fully seated and breathing raggedly.

“Maude, let go of the headboard. I’ll hold you up.”

I let my arms fall, then reached behind me and grabbed him, thumbs on his hips, fingers on his ass, pulling him closer. He keened and began thrusting as I straightened my torso and rested my ass lightly on his thighs, gyrating as I clamped down on him.

He moaned, long and low, making me shiver. “Ohgodohgodohgod…love, please keep doing that. Please.”

I squeezed in time with his movements, appreciating the angle of his cock that resulted from this particular position. He felt…bigger. And deeper. I would have sworn I could discern the ridge of his head as it pressed against my walls, and every time it hit my G-spot I whimpered. His mouth was on my neck, then my shoulder. I felt him sucking, then nipping, then applying his teeth and abruptly stopping and licking instead. He lowered one hand and tugged at my clit, holding it between his index and middle finger as his cock pounded into me mercilessly.

“That’s it, Thomas. Fuck me hard. Don’t hold back, baby. Just like that. Ungh. Oh god. Don’t stop. Do. Not. Stop.”

He began repeating my name, moving faster and faster, like a jack rabbit, then becoming irregular, his entire body spasming as he neared his peak. I commenced riding him like it was the final stretch of the Belmont stakes, my fourth orgasm rendering me both breathless and voiceless as I leaned back, applying my full weight to his thighs as he filled me with his come. He pulled me down to the bed with him, cock still inside me as we spooned.

Several minutes passed before I could speak again. “Good golly Miss Molly that was fucking incredible. Holy shit.”

He kissed my neck. “I concur. Fully.”

His gesture reminded me that he’d refrained from biting me. I pulled away and rolled to face him, up on one elbow, head in my hand.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

He sat up, concern in his eyes. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

I sat up as well, come running out of me and onto the bedspread. I rolled my eyes. “Shit. Sorry, housekeeping. Again.” I reached out and put my hand on his knee, finding myself unsure of how to proceed. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…you were…my shoulder…”

He frowned slightly but didn’t speak as he placed his hand on top of mine.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, opened them, then met his gaze. “Limits. I think we should talk about limits. Sexual limits. Because I don’t want either of us to be afraid to do the things we enjoy, or try things we think we’d enjoy, for fear of the other person being uncomfortable.”

He exhaled, relief in his eyes. “Thank you. After everything I told you last night…it crossed my mind that you might assume I have a proclivity for certain things that you’d rather not participate in, and I wanted to discuss it but with everything else that’s going on…”

I interrupted him. “My ‘no thanks’ list is pretty short. No bondage, no punishment, no subjugation, no shaming, no submission and no sharing. Other than that, I’m open to anything. Wait…actually, I’m not into serious pain, either, but love bites are fine, and you’re more than welcome to heartily slap my ass because you want to watch it jiggle.”

He snickered. “Maude, you wouldn’t revel in being submissive? I’m shocked, I say. Shocked.”

I feigned surprise, opening my eyes wide. “I know. Completely unexpected, right? I’m aware that some people who are very dominant in their everyday lives find letting themselves go in such a fashion to be a welcome release, but…no. If I can’t be in charge, the playing field has to be nothing less than equal. It’s how I’m wired.” I paused. “I think I was most apprehensive about the whole swinger thing. I don’t even like to share my food, never mind my partner. Prior to being in a committed relationship I might have been persuaded to consider…fuck. Sorry. Let’s try that again. Monogamous, maybe? Though by definition that excludes other parties…oy. Didn’t mean to imply that we’re…but it feels like…son of a bitch…here, Thomas, have some extra pressure you don’t need. Good god, will you please say something so I shut the fuck up?”

He leaned in and put his hand on my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. “It’s not an implication. It’s the truth. For me, at least. I’m aware it seems ridiculous on the surface because we’ve known each other for such a short time, but…I am committed. In my heart, and in my soul. To you.”

I sighed contentedly. “Well, that shut me up. Nicely done. And, you know, me too. Committed.” 

He embraced me. “Good.” I felt him shudder before he let go in order to face me. “In no way, shape or form do I wish to share myself with anyone else but you. And just thinking about you with…right in front of me…no. I can’t allow myself to visualize it. I’ll go off the rails.”

I rolled my eyes again. “I hear that, dude. Though I’ve been battling with myself all day, trying to resist Googling Claudia. I have no idea why. It’s weird. I guess I see her as the competition. Even if she’s not. Or maybe I just want to know what she looks like in case we run into her. Or maybe I just like torturing myself.”

He kissed me, tender and soft. “I think that’s normal. I was curious to know what your partners looked like as well. But Maude, Claudia…she was…she wasn’t really anything. She was just…there. Which makes me feel like a horrible person when I say it out loud. Anyway, my point was that there is no competition. It’s not even the same sport.” He shook his head. “Fuck, that sounds…ugh…your turn to say something to shut ME the fuck up, please.” 

“No problem. So, what’s on your ‘no thanks’ list?”

“Same as you. Though I’m not averse to having my hands tied together or to an inanimate object, but it’s not something I…”

“Nope. No can do. I read Gerald’s Game. I’d be fine with using my hands to restrain you, though. Or pretending to restrain you, I should say. Because you’re just a smidge more powerful than I am. Anything else?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s not on the ‘no’ list, actually, but since we’re already chatting about such incredibly awkward matters perhaps it’s a good time to bring it up…”

“Lay it on me, baby.”

He covered his eyes and said a mumbled a single word. “Anal.”

I pulled his hand away so I could see him. “We don’t have to do that ever again if you don’t want to. It’s…”

“No, no, NO. I love the way it feels when my cock is buried in your ass. I was talking about…me. Anal.”

I sat for a moment until the light bulb switched on. “Ohhhhhh…NOW I get it. Totally fine with me. What do you usually like? Tongue? Fingers? Plugs? Prostate massagers? All of the above?”

He put his face in his hands, mumbling again. “I don’t know.”

“I…what do you mean you don’t…oh. OH. Wow. Do you mean you don’t know because you’ve never tried it with someone?”

He nodded from behind his hands. “Correct. And because your next question will be why…while it’s something I’ve always fantasized about, I never trusted or felt comfortable enough with anyone to reveal my interest. Even when I was so drunk that I could hardly see, I’d pretend it was out of the question if propositioned.”

I moved behind him and put my arms around his torso, leaning forward to kiss his neck. “Please don’t be embarrassed. Your face is still covered in my pussy juice and your come is dripping down my thigh. I can’t think of a more opportune time to discuss what you’d like me to stick up your ass.” I could feel him chuckling. “Have you ever, erm…done…anything to yourself?”

He lifted his head from his hands and sat up, twisting so he could see me. “I have. Just a finger.” I raised a brow and he turned back around. “Fine. Two fingers. God, this is mortifying.”

I ran my thumbs over his nipples and whispered in his ear. “Actually, I think it’s ridiculously fucking hot. I can just see you…” They were still hard, like little pebbles, so I pinched them. “And now…though it’s not quite the same…I get to take your cherry. Mmmhmm. So very, very, very hot.”

He turned to the side, and I knee-walked down the bed to sit next to him. I yawned.

He laughed. “Not so hot after all?”

I shook my head. “Still hot. But all of a sudden I’m exhausted.” I looked at the clock. It was ten after five. Plenty of time before we had to meet Anne at eight. “Thomas, can I interest you in a naked nap?”

“Yes, please. Let’s.” He rested his forehead on mine, his voice barely audible. “I love you, Maude.”

I patted him on the back. “I love you too, Thomas.”

We used the bathroom, cleaned up, took the coverlet off the bed and conked out on the sheets, my head on his chest, one of his hands in my hair and the other in the dip of my lower back.

****************************************  
It was six-thirty when I opened my eyes, the sound of Tom in the shower having woken me. My first thought was of what he’d said about Will, and curiosity got the best of me. I grabbed my phone out of my purse, as well as the picture of the dress Barty had written his cell number on. There was a message for me from the Reverend Thompson at the Christ Church Cathedral requesting a call back. I typed in the number and hit call. It rang twice before someone answered.

“Reverend Thompson, how may I help you?”

Nothing like talking to a member of the clergy while you’re sitting naked on a bed in the hotel room where you were currently shacking up with your boyfriend. Religious guilt. It lingers on even if you were never officially one of the flock. I cleared my throat. “Hello, Reverend Thompson. Maude Gallagher returning your call.”

“Miss Gallagher, thank you kindly for getting back to me so quickly. I am terribly sorry for your loss. While I believe I have all of the standard information for your mother’s service on Thursday, I was wondering if there was anything special you wanted to add. Will there be a eulogy? Would you like me to pause for folks to state remembrances? Things like that.”

“Well, there won’t be a eulogy as far as I know, and I very much appreciate your asking, but let’s just stick with the type of service you normally conduct without attendee involvement.”

“You’re quite welcome. In that case, everything is in order. How would you like to handle things if comments arise spontaneously?”

I smirked to myself as I considered the sort of remarks I’d let fly if I had the opportunity. “If they do, we’ll just roll with it. If that works for you.”

“It does. May I phone if anything else comes up?”

“Of course. Thank you, Reverend Thompson. I look forward to meeting you.”

“And you as well, Miss Gallagher.”

Tom wandered out of the bathroom, naked and toweling his hair dry. “Everything all right with the service?”

I nodded, giggling. “He called to find out if I wanted him to pause during it so people could say things…remembrances, he called them. As much fun as that has the potential to be, I said no. And he asked about a eulogy. Which I am not giving. So, that’s settled. Now I’m going to call Barty.”

“Barty?”

I tapped my index finger on my lips. “Yep. I have a question for him.”

Tom returned to the bathroom as I dialed. Barty picked up on the first ring.

“Howdy do ya, Barty here.”

I smiled, picturing him in his giant seersucker suit. “Hello, Barty. It’s Maude Gallagher. Terribly sorry to bother you so late in the day…”

“Well hello, Maude. It’s not so late…well, it may be but I’m still at the office so pay no mind to the time. What can I do for you?”

“Let me start by saying you may feel free to say no to what I’m about to ask if you believe it compromises your principles or integrity in any way.”

All I heard for ten seconds was his booming laughter. “Young lady, I cannot WAIT to hear what you have to say.”

“I’m looking for information on Will Bonaventura’s current wife. Is that something you can assist me with? Even if it’s just her name…then I can investigate further on my own.”

He was still laughing but managed to speak through it. “I must confess I had high hopes that you were going to ask me to step out for a drink, an invitation I’d be regrettably forced to decline due to my marital status. My ego is disappointed, but my mind is intrigued. Yes, I can provide you with her name, as well as her circumstances. All a matter of public record, and I had no skin in that game so my principles and integrity shall remain intact. May I be so bold as to ask why?”

“Tit for tat, eh, Barty? So be it. Though I’m relatively certain you’re privy to these two particular tidbits of information, I’ll tell them to you anyway. I was married to Will for a little over a year. I discovered he was sleeping with my mother right after my father killed himself. The why of it, to make a long story short, is that as I look back on things myself combined with the benefit of a fresh pair of eyes peering in from the outside, I’ve begun to wonder if he seeks out women with a significantly higher financial station than his own. Looking for a pattern, I guess.”

He cleared his throat. “You are correct, Maude. I did know about you, and your mother. But it never occurred to me that it was about anything other than him having a roving eye for lovely women. Pray tell, what made you think it might have been the money?”

I snorted. “I didn’t think it. Tom did. When he mentioned it, everything clicked. And I’m willing to bet the farm that the new wife is quite well off.”

“Tell your fella I’m impressed with his deductive reasoning skills. Because yes, she is. Or, she was.”

My heart skipped a beat, overactive imagination immediately thinking he’d done something to her. “Was?”

He must have heard something in my tone, because he addressed my concern immediately. “I was only referring to her economic circumstances there, Maude. Let me elaborate and clear things up. First off, her name is Anna Beth, former surname Dailey. When she was sixteen, back in 2005, she was involved in a car accident wherein both her parents were killed. They were at a railway crossing and hit by an oncoming train. She survived with only minor injuries. After an investigation was conducted, the authorities determined that the signal was not only broken, but it had been for quite some time. They offered her a seven-figure settlement…a number which started with a two…and it was placed in trust for her until she was no longer a minor by her guardian, an aunt. Belinda, if I’m not mistaken. She and my wife belong to the same garden club. No matter. What does matter is that it was big news ‘round these parts, and Anna Beth was a rather gifted pianist who wound up taking guitar lessons from Mr. Bonaventura at the start of her senior year of high school. As soon as she turned eighteen, he left your mother to marry her and they relocated to Los Angeles. Last I heard through the grapevine that is my wife’s social circle, the ostentatious house they bought was in the final stages of foreclosure and they were flat broke.”

An unattractive sneer adorned my face as I realized he’d almost certainly show up looking for a payout before the week was out. Barty continued.

“That’s really all I know at this point in time, but if anything else turns up I’ll ring you. And if he comes sniffing around, you just call me and I’ll take care of everything. All righty?”

“I shall…as long as you promise to bill me for your time.”

He laughed again. “I will indeed, young lady. I’ve got mouths to feed just like everyone else.”

As we said our goodbyes Tom sat next to me on the bed, still naked. I filled him in on all the details, watching his jaw clench when I mentioned that I anticipated not only a visit but a confrontation.

I kissed his cheek. “I’m not worried about it, at all. You don’t need to be, either. I have insider information. I’m almost hoping it happens so I can trip him up and make him look like the loser he is. He’d hate that. SO much.” I ran my fingers down the center of his chest and stomach, starting at his collarbones, not stopping until I reached his belly button. “Why are you still naked? You need to not be naked.”

He grinned at me. “I’ve no idea where we’re going. Nor what the dress code is.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s your excuse?”

His teeth gripped my earlobe and tugged. “Yes. What’s yours?”

“I was waiting for you to stop bogarting the bathroom.” He tickled my ribs. “No, no. Nope. Cease and desist. I have to pee.”

He let me go and I bolted to the toilet, speaking as I gratefully relieved myself. “Oh. Right. We’re going to the Court of Two Sisters. Business casual, I’d think. Check their website, will you?”

“Doing it already.” A pause. “It says ‘nice casual’.”

I flushed, turned the shower on and got in. “Um, that’s an oxymoron as far as I’m concerned. All I know is I’m wearing my black tank dress. And some sort of shoes. Probably.”

His voice was closer, and when I peeked out he was standing in the doorway. Still naked. “The one with the grommets? That you wore the day we met?”

I nodded. “That’s the one. I know, totally lame that I’m repeating myself already. Twice in one day, even. All the stuff I bought for Comic-Con is way too heavy for this weather. Which reminds me…tomorrow I need to go find acceptable viewing and funeral attire. So exciting!” I closed the curtain and put my head under the spray to wet my hair. I heard it open and turned my head to look at him.

He smiled. “Hi.”

I smiled back and reached for the shampoo. “Hi.”

“Do you mind if I hang about?”

I shook my head. “I’d love some company, actually.”

He remained, watching me rinse my hair, soap up, then rinse. Neither of us spoke. When I was finished, he held a towel open and wrapped it around me as soon as I stepped out, kissed me, then went into the main room as I dried myself off.

He’d gotten dressed, in dark blue jeans and a light-blue button down shirt, said buttons working way too hard to contain him as per usual. His feet were still bare, and I stared, marveling at how exquisitely elegant yet unmistakably masculine they were. I lifted my gaze to find him smirking.

I stuck out my tongue. “Yes, Thomas, even your feet are gorgeous. Bastard.”

He shrugged. “I find myself incapable of deciding which shoes to wear. The boots are my favorite, but good Christ they’re hot.”

“If you’re asking for permission to wear your white Vans…I have no comment.”

He laughed. “I have navy blue ones. Do those fit into the ‘nice casual’ category, do you think?”

“I’m going to say…yes.” I dug around in my luggage for some clean underwear and came up empty. I hadn’t done laundry at the beach house because I had plenty of things to see me through until we got to New York, and never gave it a second thought in the midst of all that had gone awry. “Shit. It appears that I’m out of underwear. Add laundry to the list of ‘adulting we need to do tomorrow’. I’d ask to borrow a pair of yours, but that would most likely be an exercise in futility. Do correct me if I’m wrong.”

He shook his head. “All I have are my swim trunks. Sorry.” His tongue ran over his lips, tortuously slow. “Guess you’re just going to have to go without.”

I rolled my eyes as I hooked my black bra and spun it around, slipping my arms through the straps and tucking my boobs into the cups one at a time. “No undies in a dress that barely hangs to my knees. What could possibly go wrong?”

He grinned, tongue between his teeth. “I’ll be spending the entire evening wishing for a good, strong breeze to descend upon us at just the right moment.”

The dress was in my garment bag, and I removed its hanger and pulled it over my head. “Yeah. Don’t bother. Not necessary. I’m totally going to drop something, bend right the fuck over at the waist and boom…HELLO NEW ORLEANS! Maude’s ‘a coochie for every city’ tour continues.”

He guffawed, laugh cycling through all of its gears in seconds.

“Sure. Laugh. See if you’re still laughing when you have to bail me out after I’m arrested for flashing an entire restaurant. And on the front page of TMZ.”

Tears were running down his cheeks. “Oh…MAUDE…you are…fucking…HILARIOUS.”

“Mmm hmm. I speak the truth, Hiddleston. THE TRUTH.”

He was still snickering after I applied my makeup and put my hair in a bun at the base of my neck. I tied on my gladiator sandals, then remembered the black tourmaline necklace my father had given me. I went back into the bathroom, as my jewelry was in its own bag, nested in with my makeup. I took it out and held it in one hand, running the index finger of the other over it. Tom’s laughter quickly faded when he saw it, and when he reached to take it from me I could see in the image reflected by the mirror that his eyes were damp and full of reverence.

He spoke quietly. “May I put this on for you?”

I nodded. He took it from my hand, held it to my neck and fastened the clasp. His hands came to rest on my shoulders. I turned my head to the side and kissed the left one.

“Thank you.”

He kissed the top of my head. “You’re welcome, my love. Ready to go?”

“Yep.” I grabbed my phone, shoved it in my bag and slung the works over my shoulder as we headed out the door. “Oh, and by the way…don’t be surprised if Anne tries to rope you into playing Lestat over dinner.”

****************************************  
The Court of Two Sisters, located at 613-615 Royal, was built in 1832 for Jean Baptiste Zenon Cavelie, president of the Bank of New Orleans. In 1886 it was purchased by an aristocratic Creole family…the Anguads. Shortly thereafter Bertha Angaud set up shop with her sister, Emma Camors, selling notions in what they dubbed ‘The Shop of Two Sisters.’ Over the years, they provided Mardi Gras costumes to the city’s wealthiest women, along with formal gowns and imported perfumes from Paris. The large courtyard was used by the sisters to serve tea and cakes to their very favorite customers from time to time.

In 1904, the sisters closed the shop as the Creole population was replaced with Italian immigrants, interest in their wares waning with the implementation of the traditions they brought with them. The property passed through many hands until 1963, when it was purchased by the Fein family, who toiled to preserve and restore it while in the process providing New Orleans with an unparalled dining experience that embodies the spirit of the city. Anne had grown up poor, but always had a deep appreciation for the rich architectural history that surrounded her, and her mentions of The Court of Two Sisters in her novels added to the magic and helped make it a tourist ‘must see’ destination. I’d eaten there at least once a month when I was growing up, my mother dressed to the nines and refusing to buy me desert. When I went with Anne it was a different story…always seated at her favorite table in the courtyard, right near the wishing well fountain, also known as the Devil’s Wishing Well due to the fact that legendary Voodo practitioner Marie Laveau lived nearby and was assumed to have practiced her craft in what was then the city’s largest open area whenever she got the chance.

I relayed all I knew, as well as my experiences, to Tom on the car ride over. We parked two blocks away, and as we walked up the street I once again found myself staring at him as he took in everything around us. When we reached the front of the building, he turned to me, gaping.

“Maude, look at this architecture…the brick building, the balcony, the dark wooden façade on the main floor, the plantation shutters…” He whipped out his phone and began taking photos, which I wasn’t sure would turn out well as all the outside lights were on since the sun had just set.

I put my hand on his back. “Wait until you see the courtyard. You’re going to lose you shit.”

He put his phone away and linked his arm with mine, pulling me forward. “Let’s go, let’s go, LET’S GO!”

The hostess advised us that Anne had already arrived and escorted us to our table. When we stepped into the courtyard I realized once more how many memories I’d had to suppress in order to survive…I’d made myself forget that it even existed, and it was so incredibly beautiful that I nearly burst into tears. For the bazillionth time in twenty-four hours.

The flooring was comprised entirely of brick pavers, all weathered smooth from years and years of traffic. Above, the wrought iron pergola was nearly invisible, hidden by a variety of climbing vines as they weaved throughout the structure and around each other. White lights were strung amongst them, casting an ethereal glow and drawing me in to look closely at the greenery, fully expecting a fairy or two to peek out and say hello. All the tables and chairs were wrought iron as well, with white tablecloths and napkins, and a lighted candle as a centerpiece. The fountain’s circular brick base was painted blue on the inside, the second tier displayed a rainbow of colors, and all other components were made of metal and darkened with age so their composition, though likely iron, couldn’t be accurately determined with only a glance. I heard Anne before I saw her.

“Maudie! There you are!” She was standing, clad in a high neck white blouse and black slacks, and as we reached the table she threw her arms around me, then pulled back. “Honey, it’s been far too long…let me look at you.”

I stood stock still as she sized me up like a blue ribbon heifer at a county fair. She let out a low whistle.

“You look downright ravishing, kiddo. Wowza.”

Tom laughed, and she turned to him. He sobered and held out his hand. “Hello, Mrs. Rice. I’m Tom. Tom Hiddleston.”

She ignored his hand, snorted and hugged him instead, then stepped back and stared at him. “Hmpf. As if I don’t know who you are. Please, call me Anne. And, what’s so funny? Inquiring minds want to know.”

Tom blushed and turned to me, eyes pleading. I decided to rescue him, pointing my thumb in his direction. “What’s funny is that the first time he saw me in this dress he said the same exact thing, more or less.”

He recovered quickly, pulling out Anne’s chair. “Imagine my delight when she found hearing it so gratifying that she requested I repeat it immediately while employing my Loki voice.”

It was Anne’s turn to laugh, sitting as Tom pushed her in. “Who could blame her?”

I pulled out my own chair before Tom could scramble to my side, began to plop down and remembered that I was pantyless just in the nick of time, slowing my descent to a dainty crawl, tucking the dress underneath me. “Damn right. And I’m still not over it. So, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.” I picked up a menu and began perusing.

The waitress came over, her blonde hair tied back neatly in a braid, dressed in brown pants, green jacket, white shirt and black bow-tie.

“Good evening, all. What can I get you to drink?”

Anne and Tom opted for iced tea, and I asked for a Coke. We were ready to order by the time she brought them to the table. For an appetizer, we decided we’d split a serving of the jalapeno stuffed bacon wrapped duck. For dinner, Anne chose shrimp and grits, served with Andouille sausage. Tom decided on the corn fried Louisiana catfish, served with jumbo lump crabmeat, Napa slaw and cayenne tartare sauce. After debating whether to have chicken or pork, I settled on the grilled double cut pork chop with a potato mash and roasted baby carrots, topped with a bacon and red wine reduction. As soon as the waitress collected our menus Anne bent and reached under the table, fumbling in her giant purse that more closely resembled a small suitcase. She handed me a framed photograph.

“Here. I’ve had this on the wall of my study for years, but I thought you might like it. I wasn’t sure if you had any of your own, and in case your mother didn’t save…”

I didn’t hear the rest of her sentence, captivated by what I held in my hands. It was from when I was around ten or eleven years old, my father and I at Mardi Gras, beads around our necks, smiling and waving at the camera. He was wearing a black windbreaker over a white T-shirt, his red hair a mess of curls and hanging over his forehead, eyes an impossible shade of blue. I’d forgotten about his dimples, and the crinkles that would appear around his eyes when he smiled. I was in floral print leggings and a yellow sweater tunic, turquoise Converse Hi-tops on my feet and a black jacket tied around my waist. My hair was in a side ponytail, and my glasses were huge, with purple frames. Tom leaned closer to see what I was looking at as I fought back tears. I handed it to him and turned to Anne.

“Thank you, Anne. I have no pictures of myself, or of him. When did you take that?”

“1989, I believe.”

I shook my head. “So he was about to turn thirty. And now I’m almost eight years older than that. Life is fucking insane.”

She chuckled. “I’m not going to argue with that. This year I turn seventy-four. Still feel thirty on the inside, though. And sometimes ten.”

Tom had been silent during our exchange, studying the photo. He looked up at me, smiling softly, and took my hand. “You have his smile. And his lips. And his dimples, his jaw, and his hair, though yours is a different color. I have a feeling that you laugh like him as well.”

Anne nodded emphatically. “You know what, Tom? She does. And she sings like him, too.”

He squeezed my hand. “He sang?”

I shrugged. “He did, when I was little. All the time. I didn’t see him often then, but when I did, he was always singing. Pop hits, folk songs, you name it.” I frowned. “The singing just…stopped. So did the smiling. I guess he was unhappy for a really long time. I mean, how could he not be?”

He set the picture down carefully, put his arm around me and kissed my check. “I’m sorry, love. You all right?”

I kissed him back. “Yep. Thank you.”

I looked at Anne. She was smiling, eyes filled with tears. I raised a brow. “And are YOU all right?”

She waved a hand at me. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just having a moment.”

I knew that meant she was missing Stan and that I should let it go. A moment later she perked up, pointed her finger back and forth between Tom and me and inquired as to how we met. We’d just finished telling her about our Talk Story adventure and our surprise afternoon meeting when our appetizer arrived. It was amazing, and we were all so focused on eating that the conversation was minimal. Ten minutes later the waitress returned with dinner.

I cut into my pork chop and stuffed a piece into my mouth. “Yum freaking O. Meat.” Tom snickered and I stuck my tongue out at him.

He offered me a bite of his catfish. I shook my head. “No thank you. You know the deal. It swam once. I’ll pass.” He started at me, pleading with his best puppy dog eyes until I shared my pork with him.

I ignored all rules of etiquette and spoke with my mouth full. “So, Anne…how’s my book coming?”

She chewed the bite of sausage she’d been eating, then swallowed. “Still just the initial draft. Haven’t had any time to look at it over the past few weeks. Another project keeps getting in the way.”

I raised a brow. “More Mayfair Witches? Or Beautry, perhaps? Lord knows the world could use some well written erotica after…”

She shook her head and picked up a shrimp. “No. The Vampire Lestat screenplay.” She popped the entire thing into her mouth, grinning fiendishly.

“Why would that be getting in the…wait…are you, like, writing it?”

She nodded. “Wrote it would be more accurate. With Christopher. We finished it last week. Universal worked with three other writing teams but got nowhere, so they called to see if I’d jump in. I didn’t even make them beg or anything before saying yes.”

I glanced at Tom, who had inhaled his catfish as well as the crabmeat that topped it and was now using his finger to get the last bits of sauce off his otherwise empty plate. He shrugged and smiled slyly. “What? I was in desperate need of sustenance. It was such a busy day…have to replace all those lost calories, you know.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to Anne, who winked at me. I put my head in my hands, sighed and returned to the remaining bites of my pork chop. “So, they’re skipping Interview and going right to Lestat?”

She nodded again, taking another bite of sausage and held up a finger until she was done. “That was their intent, to combine The Vampire Lestat and Queen of the Damned into one movie. I told them if they were going to do it right, they needed at least some of the elements from Interview and that Queen should stand alone as its own picture, replacing that god awful…whoops…oh, screw it, it was awful, wasn’t it?”

I laughed. “Yeah. I like Stuart Townsend, and he looked fine with his shirt off, but…he’s just not…Lestat. Plus they left out the vast majority of the actual story.”

Tom was watching us as if her were at a tennis match, waiting to see where the ball would go next.

Anne threw her hands up in the air. “Exactly, Maude.” She turned to Tom. “Have you seen it?”

He shook his head. “I’d say I was embarrassed to have missed it, but based on what I’m hearing I shouldn’t be. I did see Interview with the Vampire though, back in the day.”

I looked at him, brows raised. “And?”

He grinned. “I was thirteen. I’m not sure my opinion should count.”

“Point taken. I was seventeen and Brad Pitt had long hair and cool contacts, so I could almost ignore Tom Cruise. But it wasn’t all it could have been, mainly because they chose him, that I’m certain of. Though that may be bias talking because I have my own vision of Lestat in my head, always have since I read the books, and…yeah. Not sure anyone could compare with it, really.” I could feel the flush creeping across my chest and up my neck as I swallowed the last piece of pork.

Upon spotting my blush, his grin grew ever wider. The waitress returned, collected our dirty dishes and asked if we’d like dessert. Anne passed but ordered a cup of coffee, Tom opted for the same and some chocolate mousse, and I asked for a cup of Earl Grey and a slice of German chocolate cake.

Tom edged his chair closer to mine, rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, gazing pointedly into my eyes as his grin transitioned into a smirk. “Surely there must be someone you’d deem appropriate for the role, Maude.”

Anne’s smile lit up her face. “Yes, Maudie. Who would you choose, if you had carte blanche?”

My eyes narrowed, then I tapped my lips with my index finger. “Hmm, well, I know I’d want Lee Pace to play Louis. His eyebrows are epic.”

They both stared at me, silently amused.

I pointed at Anne. “This isn’t fair and you know it. If you want to ask him, just ask. I already told him you might. But there is no way I’m saying those words, people. No way. I’m just the social media manager. Not my place.” 

She pointed back. “Stop hiding behind your work, kid. You didn’t give me your opinion when I first mentioned it to you…though you did pause for an inordinate amount of time to consider it, didn’t you? And I want your opinion. But not your opinion as his social media manager, or his girlfriend. I want your opinion as a fan. You love Lestat. You’re told me more times than I can count that he’s your favorite fictional character…”

Tom put a hand over his heart, mockingly crestfallen. His face shifted, and I knew I was in for a dose of Loki before he even opened his mouth to speak. He leaned in, face ridiculously close to mine. “I was under the assumption that I am your favorite fictional character. How…disappointing.” He sneered. “Is this love, Maude Gallagher? Perhaps I need to pay this Lestat fellow a visit…”

Anne roared with laughter, and I put my head in my hands and breathed deeply, my hormones galloping along and making it almost impossible for me to be rational. Picturing him as Lestat, followed by Loki’s cameo…nope. No. Nuh-uh. Too fucking much. I focused my attention on the slice of cake that would be arriving soon in an attempt to distract myself. Layers of chocolate, caramel, pecan and coconut filling and topping. I repeated it eight times before I felt capable of semi-coherent speech again. 

I lifted my head and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Here you go. My opinion from a purely fan-based perspective.” I aimed my thumb at Tom. “He’s fucking perfect for the role. Happy now?”

A different server brought our dessert and drinks. I scarfed up a giant forkful of cake, closing my eyes and groaning as it hit my tongue. I felt Tom’s hand first on my knee, then slip under the hem of my dress and onto my bare thigh. My eyes flew open and I put my hand over his before he got carried away.

Anne reached into her purse again and pulled out what appeared to be a draft of the screenplay, dropping it on the table with a thud.

Her smile was cherubic. “I think he is too.” She pushed it in his direction. “No pressure, Tom. If you feel like giving it a read, great. If you’re not interested, I understand. You’ve already done the vampire thing…I enjoyed Only Lovers Left Alive immensely, by the way…and I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you’re repeating yourself…”

He reached out and put his hand over hers. “Of course I’ll read it, Anne. I’m honored that you’d consider me for such an iconic character that so many hold dear. I’d like to read the books as well, and I’ll see if I can find them when we’re out tomorrow…”

She pulled her hand out from under his, fished around in her bag some more and came up with dog-eared copies of Interview, Vampire and Queen. “Here you go. There are more, if you want to really get into it. Maude can fill you in on the details. Obviously, the final casting choices aren’t up to me, but I’d like to think they’ll be open to my suggestions this time around. We don’t have a director yet, either, but I saw a screener of Crimson Peak that Christopher was given and now Mr. Del Toro is at the top of my list.”

Tom’s face lit up. “Well, I’d love the opportunity to work with him again, that’s a certainty. He’s brilliant, and has such a unique methodology.” He pointed at the screenplay. “Have you sent him a copy?”

She shook her head.

Tom tilted his to the side, pondering, then nodded. “If you email one to me I’d be happy to pass it along if you’d like.”

Anne beamed. “That would be fantastic, Tom. Thank you. I hope you’ll forgive me for springing it on you like this.” She looked at me. “And you too, especially. I had everything with me, just in case, but I hadn’t planned on bringing it up until later on in the week. After meeting him, though, I just couldn’t help myself.”

I was still trying to get his hand out from under my dress. I snorted. “Yeah. Welcome to my world.”

****************************************  
We chatted for a while after dessert until we’d each finished our fourth cup of coffee and tea. Tom had started in on the screenplay after the second round, and Anne and I discussed my new job, the possibility of Will showing up, and what I’d do with the house. As we parted ways Anne said she’s see us at the viewing, and we arrived back at the hotel at ten after eleven. I’d barely even put my bag down, but Tom was already sitting on the side of the bed, screenplay in his lap, continuing from where he’d left off. I sat next to him, watching him read.

I put my hand on his arm. “So…you’re, like, into this, maybe?”

He turned and smiled at me, face full of excitement. “Yes.” He gestured to the page he was on. “This is amazingly well done.” He turned back to the beginning. “And look, they even created a biography for him. He’s multi-faceted, conflicted…I can’t wait to learn everything about him.”

I changed into a T-shirt and washed out a pair of underwear in the sink, using my body wash as soap, then hung them on the towel rack to dry. He was still in the same spot when I came out of the bathroom.

I kissed him on top of his head. “You’re not going to stop until you’ve finished that, are you?”

He looked up at me, grinning abashedly. “Probably not, no. Do you mind?”

I shook my head. “Of course not. It’s the first time I’m seeing you in your element…it’s fascinating. And adorable. But I’m going to crash out, I think. Cool?”

He pulled me down and kissed me, biting my bottom lip gently, and I explored his mouth with my tongue. We both whimpered as I backed away. He reached up under my T-shirt and cupped my breasts, resting his head on my stomach.

“Maybe I’ll finish this tomorrow.”

I ran my hands through his hair. “Or you could just wake me up when you’re done.” He lifted his head and I giggled at his expression. “What? Sex is one of the few things I LIKE being woken up for. Are there really people who feel differently?” I shook my head. “Scratch that. I don’t want to know.”

He giggled as well, then spoke, his voice low and obscenely erotic as he slid his hands down my belly and out of my shirt. “As soon as I’ve finished the last word, I’ll be coming for you.”

I put a hand on my hip and raised an eyebrow. “Well I’d fucking hope so.”

We laughed, and I pulled back the covers as far as I could and crawled into bed. He turned around, puzzled. “I thought you’d want to go upstairs…you’re going to be able to sleep here, with me up and about and the light on?”

I yawned. “Yep. And this way all you have to do when you’re done is roll over.” I held up my hand. “No, no, don’t thank me. I enjoy accommodating your every need.”

It was his turn to raise a brow as he snickered. “Oh, of course. Not a bit of selfishness in your motivation, is there?”

I held my index finger to my lips. “Shh. Maude is sleeping now.”  
He grinned, patted my thigh and returned to his task. I watched him from behind, the muscles in his back rippling as he turned the pages, hearing him inhale when something surprised him, laughing softly at Lestat’s antics, the peaceful silence while he was absorbing Anne and Christopher’s words. He reached behind him at some point to rest his hand on my ankle, then began to rub it gently. It was better than any lullaby, and I felt my eyelids growing heavy, falling asleep within minutes and dreaming of him dressed as Lestat during his rock star phase, leather pants and no shirt, his white-blonde hair gleaming in the stage lights as the entire world was bewitched by his majestic charisma.


	21. Chapter 21

A gentle tugging at my left nipple and a heavy but strangely soothing heat on my pelvis lifted me slowly from my slumber. I tried to open my eyes several times, first one, then the other, finally managing to coordinate and get both un-shut at the same time so I could actually see. The room was dim, the only light source the street lamps from outside, spilling in over the top and out from the sides of the curtains. I lifted my right arm, and it felt like I was moving through water. As my hand hit something solid and warm, the tugging at my nipple ceased and Tom’s face rose into view. I waved at him, fingers bending toward my wrist and thumb pointed out, as if I were a small child.

He smiled, voice hushed. “Hello, beautiful.”

I wiped the drool from my mouth with the back of my hand, speech still slurred from sleep. “Finished?”

His voice in my ear as he ground against me. “Actually, I’m just getting started.”

My legs moved as if they had a mind of their own, sliding out from under his, falling open and wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed and heels resting on his ass.

I tapped his shoulder. “Start you. Now. Can.”

He chuckled, then moaned as he worked himself inside me, rooting deeper and deeper until I felt his balls nestled against my skin. His mouth found mine, kissing me until I could barely breathe. We pulled away from each other momentarily, then resumed, repeating the process as he rocked gently into me, undulating his hips. When I finally joined in the dance, he sped up slightly, pulling almost fully out and pushing back in, cock lingering to rub against my walls just enough to drive me mad with want, but not enough to make me come.

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed, my words jumbled by more than just sleepiness. “Fast. Er. Faster. Hard. You.”

He shook his head and whispered. “Not yet.”

I whined, and he shifted, resting his weight on one arm as he moved the other so his hand could reach my mound. He rubbed the outer lips, circling with the base of his palm, smiling in the faint light as my whine morphed into a throaty grunt of pleasure. I lost track of time as he continued, his pace remaining the same, until he dipped his finger into my wetness and found my clit. My fingernails dug into his back as the orgasm washed over me, waves of pleasure starting at my core and rippling out to finally reach the tips of my fingers and toes, like a rock thrown into a still pond. He began thrusting hastily, rubbing my nub vigorously, mouth on mine once again, rhythmically sucking on my tongue. I felt his balls draw up, the only sound in the room him whimpering into my open mouth as he came. I moved my legs down so they were twined around his thighs for leverage and rode him until I climaxed again, this one short but so powerful that I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out and waking everyone in the building.

He collapsed on top of me. “Worth waking up for?”

I nodded drowsily. “Yah. Betcha.”  
I could feel him grinning against my chest, and he rose up on his elbows. “Maude?”

I patted his cheek. “Mmm.”

“You were very, very wet when I woke you. Soaking. Sopping, even. Were you, perchance, having naughty dreams?”

I grabbed his jaw and shook it as I nodded again. “You. Lestat. Hot. Too much sexy. May die if happens. Bastard.”

He laughed. “You are irresistibly adorable when you’re half asleep.” He lifted himself off me, got up and stood at the side of the bed, holding his hand out to me. “Bathroom?”

I grumbled at the prospect, but knew I should take care of business if I wanted to sleep well. He escorted me to the bowl, guided me as I sat, helped me off when I was done, then walked me back to bed.

“Here you are, my love. I’ll be right back.” He kissed my forehead and went back in to the bathroom. I squinted at the clock. It read 3:30. I meant to tell him I was impressed with his speed reading skills but was asleep again before he returned to me.

****************************************  
All of our Tuesday was spent addressing things we’d either been neglecting or needed to take care of before we left the city on Friday. I found a full service laundry and dropped off our combined pile of clothes before we stopped at McDonald’s for breakfast, then found a real estate agent willing to meet us at the house immediately. After apologizing profusely for what she was about to endure within, we toured the property with her. Upon inspecting the garage, we discovered it was filled to the brim with boxes, and that the former servant’s quarters above it had been converted into a recording studio. There were more guitars, a drum set, keyboards…the works. The agent’s on the spot appraisal based on local comps was seven hundred and fifty thousand as is, with a tentative value of at least a million if I painted, changed out all the fixtures, and converted the kitchen/bar area back into a kitchen and dining room with either a classic or modern theme, depending upon my taste and aligned with the look I chose for the rest of the home. The recording studio might attract a buyer, but she thought it would be better if I took out all the equipment and billed it as ready to finish space, or, preferably, turn it back into an apartment. I asked about having someone come in to clean up and hold an estate sale on my behalf, explaining I couldn’t be there in person, and she said she had a company she preferred to work with and would forward their contact info later on in the day.

I phoned Barty and asked him to email the loan holder information and balance due to me, and when it arrived I phoned the company and advised I’d be paying it off at the end of the week. The customer service rep I spoke with promised to have all the remittance details to me no later than Thursday morning. It felt strange, the idea of owning a home I’d hated to be in, but I reminded myself I wouldn’t have to LIVE there because it was nothing more than an investment in my future. 

We picked up our laundry, and after that it was off to Dress Barn to find something to wear for the upcoming bullshit. There were plenty of little boutiques around, but, let’s face it, good luck finding something above a size six. I knew that I’d be able to find something in my size at Dress Barn, even it wasn’t a perfect match for my ‘personal style’.

Seeing Tom holding the pile of dresses I wanted to try on as we headed to the fitting rooms struck me as hilariously funny, and I whipped out my phone to take a picture. He made me take another, in which he rolled his eyes and appeared as exasperated as possible. I dared him to post it online, and as soon as his hands were free he put it on Tumblr. I had him edit it when I saw the finished product.

Greetings and Salutations, Followers.

Not being the sort to back down from a dare, here’s a photo of me graciously attending to the needs my social media manager while she scours the racks at Dress Barn. I have a sneaking suspicion that the sole purpose of her goading me into posting this is so she’s able to deduct her purchases as a business expense.

Edited to add…said social media manager would like me to inform you that the ‘ask box’ will be open at some point today for ten minutes. Please check back periodically so you don’t miss out on the opportunity to send in your question.

Enjoy the day!  
Tom

I forced myself to say no when he asked if he could join me in the fitting room so he’d be present and accounted for if any other needs that required tending cropped up, leaving him dejected and standing alone outside the entrance next to the service desk. He was wearing his running shorts, a white T-shirt, blue baseball cap and his running shoes, and while I knew if anyone looked closely he’d be recognized, the place wasn’t terribly busy so I figured it would be fine as long as I moved at a reasonable pace.

There were ten dresses in the stall with me, five different styles in both size twelve and fourteen. Women’s clothing sizes are a source of endless frustration and full of fuckery…a twelve often fits like a ten for one style, or a fourteen for another. Completely impossible to tell until you try it on, and then begins the parade back and forth to the rack to find that style in the next size up or down. Men’s stuff is so much more straightforward…a medium shirt is a medium shirt. A thirty-six waist is a thirty six waist. Hence my penchant for doing all my casual clothes shopping in the fella section. My double D’s complicated matters as well, the bottom half of me always a ten or twelve, the top more often than not a fourteen, sometimes a sixteen. Fine when buying separates, but dresses were a foray into a nightmare of too tight here, too loose there, too long everywhere, too…what the fuck is this even? It always seemed to me that many plus size designers were under the impression that there’s a direct correlation between a woman’s girth and her height. Not so, morons. Not so. When we put on weight, we do NOT get taller, sorry to say.

Three of the styles went into the ‘hell no’ pile prior immediately, having made me either look like a sausage or a matron, but the other two had promise. One was a short-sleeved faux wrap design with a black skirt and a black and white geometric patterned top. The wrap part was asymmetrical at the waist, which was surprisingly slimming. I couldn’t even get the twelve past my chest, but the fourteen, though a little snug in that area, was comfortable everywhere else. I walked out to show Tom and found him taking selfies with two women, probably in their mid-forties. His attention shifted when he saw me, and they looked my way as well, waving and saying hi. They complimented my dress, thanked Tom for the photos and were on their way.

I smirked, shaking my head. “Christ, I leave you alone for five minutes and the ladies are all up in your business.”

He shrugged, a slight blush creeping up from under his shirt to his neck. “They were returning something and I heard them whispering to each other, trying to determine if it was actually possible that Tom Hiddleston was standing outside a Dress Barn fitting room in New Orleans. I couldn’t help but say hello.” He pointed at me. “That looks amazing on you, by the way.”

I grinned. “Nice segue, as always. Thanks. This one is Viewing Dress. Number two, Funeral Dress, awaits. I will most likely never wear either of them ever again.”

Funeral Dress was actually kinda funky, a black cold shoulder design, exaggerated V-neck, loosely fitted with three-quarter sleeves and silver embellishments. The twelve fit perfectly, hem hanging at four inches or so above my knee. Tom was resting against the wall to the right of the doorframe when I stepped out of the fitting room, biting his lip when he turned and looked me up and down, then leaned over to bite the exposed portion of my right shoulder, whispering ‘I. Want. You.’ while pulling away.

He laughed evilly at my semi-suppressed moan. “Oh, I like this one much better.”

I raised my brows. “Gosh, me too. Maybe this one will make another appearance at some point after all.”

He resumed his duties as dress carrier while I searched for a pair of high heels, which were as foreign and unacceptable to me as pineapple on pizza. After trying on what seemed like a thousand of the blasted things, I settled on a sensible black velvet pair. The toe was roomy and not too pointy, and though the heel was ridiculously narrow and three inches high, I didn’t totter too badly in them. I chuckled when I caught sight of myself in a mirror, hair in a sloppy ponytail, X-files T-shirt, hiking shorts and then…ninety dollar heels. When I turned to point out my serious fashion fug to Tom, I noticed he’d sat down on a bench further down the aisle, the one I’d left my sandals under.

I waved. “Hola. Como esta?”

He met my gaze as he rested his hands on his knees. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to walk towards me very, very slowly?”

I shook my head, put my hands on my hips and embraced my very first runway model moment as I strutted towards him. Midway through I burst out laughing and had to stop, bending over to catch my breath. He was in front of me in an instant, hands on my arms and setting me upright.

“Maude, do you have any idea…good Christ…the way your hips roll in those things is downright obscene.” He pulled me to him, cock hard against me in an unfamiliar spot.

I thrust my hips forward. “Oooh, man…I wish I was this tall all the time. It would be so much easier for you to fuck me standing up.” I stepped out of the heels and picked them up, walked to the bench, plopped down, then stuffed them back in their box as he stood there, mouth agape. I put my Birkis back on and stood, box tucked under my arm. “Let’s go, cowboy. Much to do and little time to do it in, as always.” He retrieved the dresses from where he’d left them hanging on the edge of one of the shelves, and obediently followed me to the checkout counters up front.

****************************************  
Back at the hotel, we ordered in Chinese for lunch, scarfed half of it down and put the rest in the fridge for dinner, intending to spend the rest of the day working. We Skyped with Luke about the upcoming film festival schedule, then we took turns to chat with him individually. Simon kept sneaking behind him and making faces and obscene gestures until Luke kicked him out of the room. They were leaving for London early on the sixteenth, which reminded me that we hadn’t booked a flight for ourselves. I took care of it as soon as our session was over, then logged in to Tumblr and opened Tom’s ask box.

He was sprawled on the bed, already well into Interview with the Vampire. He’d mentioned the screenplay to Luke, who didn’t express an opinion either way, but Simon overheard and began screaming a combination of ‘OH MY FUCKING GOD!’, ‘MAUDE!’ and ‘YOU SNEAKY LITTLE MINX!’ over and over again in the background.

After ten minutes of me sitting at the desk while attempting to weed through the two hundred emails in my inbox, I closed the ask box and began reviewing questions. I deleted the vapid ones, of which there were many, which honestly surprised me, and focused on the ones that had required some thought and were not too personal. 

I cleared my throat to get Tom’s attention. Nada. I raised my leg and poked him with my toes. He jumped, startled, and grabbed my ankle as I tried to pull away.

My left eyebrow shot up. “Wow, I’m guessing you’re liking it, then?”

He nodded vigorously. “I’d like this to be the first book you put on the website, if that’s okay.”

“Sure thing, sunshine. Will you be doing a write up or shall we make a video? Have to get the camera out to make one to answer the Tumblr ask anyway, and you’re already in a white T-shirt…”

He grinned. “Sounds fine to me. Are we betting on the number of notes again?”

I crossed my arms. “No. I don’t want to break my winning streak. And you may be smiling, but I have a feeling you’re out for blood this time.”

“But Maude, I’m so gallant and chivalrous and sweet I would never…”

“Yeah. Fuck right off. Here’s the first question…I chose three. ‘What do you enjoy most about the film-making process?’”

He rubbed his jaw.

“Number two. ‘How did you manage to get so skinny to play Hank Williams?’”

He nodded.

“Number three. ‘Out of all the places you’ve traveled to, which is your very favorite?’”

He pointed at me. “That’s the one right there.”

My brow furrowed. “Seriously?”

He marked his place in the book, picked it up and nearly leapt off the bed. “Where are we doing this?”

I removed the video camera bag from my carry on. “How about in front of that awesome bamboo in the courtyard?”

“Perfect. You should bring the tripod.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

I sighed. “Fine. It’s in my suitcase. You can carry it.”

There was no one around when we got downstairs and went outside, so Tom set up the tripod smack in the middle of the path. The ceiling was slatted wood, the walls white, and the giant stalks of bamboo were set in an oval inside a square raised bed, grey gravel filling the non-mulched areas. Two planters sat on either side to the front of the bed, and behind it all were the beautifully aged original windows, the burnished brown wood golden in spots from weathering.

Tom wanted to do the book discussion first. He stood in the gravel, in the center of the raised bed, towards the front, book held with both hands in front of his chest. I gave him thumbs up and hit record.

“Hello there. Welcome to the first installment of Tom’s Library –What I’m Reading.” He held the book out toward the camera. “I hold here in my hands a story that was born right here in New Orleans, Louisiana, put to paper by the amazingly talented Anne Rice, whom I was fortunate enough to meet last evening over dinner. Interview with the Vampire, the initial title of the Vampire Chronicles series. This is my first time reading her work, I’m embarrassed to admit, and though I just delved in a few short hours ago I already find myself completely immersed in the world of Lestat de Lioncourt and Louis de Point du Lac. Her prose is poetic, gorgeous, dark and expressive and if I have my way I’ll be sitting in a corner with my nose firmly planted in this…” He held it up with one hand. “For the rest of the day. These are vampires as vampires were meant to be. My thanks to you, Anne, for dinner and for lending me your very own copy. I promise to return it unscathed.” He grinned and spread his hands, book clutched in the right one. “That’s all for now. I’m certain you’ll be hearing more about it from me sooner as opposed to later. Until next time, then.” He waved and I hit the record button again to stop filming. 

I applauded. “That was gold, Hiddleston. Gold. I don’t even need to edit it.”

He set the book down gently next to the tripod. “Shall we get right into the next one?”

“Yeah. It’s fucking hot out here. My sweat is sweating.”

He paused, looking down as he readied himself, raising his head and nodding when he was prepared to proceed. I hit the record button again.

“Greetings, Hiddlestoners, and all of you who follow me on Tumblr. Today’s question is from kneelbeforeloki1985zx - ‘Out of all the places you’ve travelled to, which is your very favorite?’ Previously, I’ve always found that one impossible to answer, but now…it’s simple. The island of Kaua’i. I just spent the two most incredible weeks of my life there. There’s beautiful scenery wherever you go, the ocean is an impossible shade of blue, and so on and so on. But the best spot on the entire island is the Talk Story bookstore. I’m sure you’re aware I’m a bit of a bibliophile, and the place is chock full of unique and rare reads. There is, however, another reason why I feel so strongly about it. It’s where I met Maude.” He waved at me, trying to get me to join him. I mouthed the words ‘are you fucking insane’ and he nodded, grinning. I shrugged and walked around the tripod and into the frame, doing a giant circle wave starting with my palm out flat toward the camera at stomach level, raising it up past my face, then clockwise out to my right side.

“Hello, People of Tumblr. I’m Maude Gallagher, Tom’s social media manager. Also known as She Who Turneth the God of Mischief into a Dress-Carrying Pack Mule. Please excuse my slovenly and disgustingly sweaty appearance. For the record, as far as I’m concerned there’s really only one acceptable reason to get sweaty…and let me tell you, standing outside in ninety-nine degree heat with ninety-six percent humidity sure as shit ain’t it.”

Tom lost it completely, head back and roaring with laughter at first, then bent over with his hands on his knees. I made a valiant attempt at keeping myself together, but it was foiled when he calmed down for a moment, then whispered ‘we’re up all night to get…sweaty’ and started giggling madly. I laughed until I wept, unable to catch my breath enough to speak, and we clutched at each other as we tried to regain some semblance of control, instead dissolving into another fit of chortles and snorts whenever we looked at each other.

I held my hand out in front of me. “We are SO sorry.” More snorts. “Really. We’re normally very, very professional.” I kept my eyes forward, staring at the gravel as I inhaled and exhaled to the count of five and cleared my throat. I felt Tom’s arm slip around my waist, pulling me to him. I turned my head in his direction, surprised at how he’d sobered so quickly.

He kissed my cheek, then looked directly into the camera. “Over the past few years I’ve been asked about my relationship status more times than I care to count, and at one point I replied to the effect that when there was something to say, I’d say it. And now there is, so here we go.” I teared up, remembering what he’d said to Luke back in Kauai’i…that he wanted the whole world to hear him when he said it. His grip on my waist tightened.

“Someday we’ll have to tell you the entire tale of how we met, because it’s amazing and entertaining and, frankly, something straight out of a movie, but…long story short, we had a delightful exchange at Talk Story that ended all too soon as we both had appointments to keep. I managed to finagle her phone number, promising to call after said appointment was over. As it turned out, unbeknownst to us, our appointments were with each other and my PR manager, Luke Windsor. He’d contacted Maude to arrange a sit down to discuss my social media participation without telling her my name, and he’d only let me know that we were meeting with someone regarding the matter, nothing else.” He turned to me and smiled, and I smiled back. “I’ve heard my entire life that when you find the right person, the person meant for you, that you just…know. Love at first sight. And I never really believed in it, most likely because it had never happened to me. Until the moment I laid on eyes on this gorgeous woman, that is. I just had to meet her. It was a compulsion I couldn’t resist. And when our gazes finally locked and she smirked at me…that was that. I knew. By the end of that very first day, I was madly, deeply and completely in love with her.” 

I rolled my eyes as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Goddamn you, Hiddleston.” I shook my head and pointed my thumb in his direction. “Anyway. Yeah. What he said. And I got a really cool job out of it all, too. Seriously, though. It was the most bizarre and extraordinary thing that I’ve ever experienced. One moment, there was some creep standing behind me who wasn’t saying anything and totally freaking me out, and ten seconds later when I turned around to berate his or her appalling behavior I found myself unable to utter a word because the creep was actually this beautiful man. A beautiful man who shortly thereafter followed me out of the store and got on his knees to beg for my phone number. I resisted at first, but as you know all too well, when it comes to Tom Hiddleston, resistance is futile. Later on that same day he brought me Lindor truffles. They were what pushed me over the edge, and down into the rabbit hole I went.” He cleared his throat. “Fine. It was more than the truffles. But let’s keep this PG, shall we?”

He leaned into me, left eyebrow raised, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Must we?”

I grinned in return as I punched him in the shoulder. “Do you think it wise to encourage me in such a fashion?”

He laughed again, shaking his head “I know it’s not.” Tom turned his attention back to the camera. “So, there you have it. Kaua’i. My favorite geographical location. I look forward to answering next week’s question…if we behave ourselves perhaps Maude will join us again.” I shook my head like a four year old refusing to eat their veggies, lips clamped shut. He grinned, tongue between his teeth, curling to touch his upper lip. “A huge thanks to all of you out there…I appreciate your support more than I can express with words. I still love the work, and I’m thrilled that you still enjoy it.” He bowed as I waved and walked out of the frame to turn off the camera.

I felt him beside me, and when I looked his way he was smiling gingerly. “Was that awful? Should we try again?”

I took his hand in mine. “Let’s watch it and see.”

When it was over his head bent towards me and came to rest on my shoulder. “So? Again?”

“No way. It was real, and hilarious, and beautiful.” Sighing, I rubbed my temple against the crown of his head. “And very, very personal. You’re certain you want to put this out there?”

He stood upright, grasped my upper arms and rotated my body to face him. “Absofuckingloutely, as you say. It’s already out there, isn’t it? Vaguely, perhaps, but obvious to those who wish to see it. This just…”

“Serves as confirmation. Which you know I think is the best way to handle it. Band-Aid. Right off. No ‘Are they? Aren’t they?’ I say post this bitch and let the chips fall where they may. And have I mentioned that it’s fucking HOT OUT HERE? If I don’t get inside soon I’m going to have a meltdown in more ways than one.”

He held his chin in his left hand, thumb grazing over his jawline, stroking, making me want to run my tongue over the same spot. “I believe you have. You get the camera, I’ll grab the tripod.”

“Thank you, kind sir. Let us now adjourn to our climate-controlled room where I will offer up a silent prayer of thanks to Willis Carrier prior to dragging my sweaty ass into the shower.”

His mouth opened, as if he were about to speak, then it closed again quickly.

I pointed at him. “You were going to sing your bastardized version of Get Lucky, weren’t you?”

He feigned astonishment, hand spread wide over his upper chest, index finger across his collar bone. “What? No! What would lead you to believe that I’d do such a thing?”

“Experience. Hot, remember? Inside time. Move it, Thomas. Move. It.”

“Ooohhh, inside time. I rather like the sound of that.”

He bounded toward the doors, beaming, as I swiveled my head back and forth in mock disgust, brain far to addled to compose a witty retort.

Once upstairs and cocooned in the delightful coolness that was our room, we ate the remnants of our Chinese food, then went back to work, Tom reading and making notes along the way, while I converted the videos to the proper format and uploaded them where they belonged. Hours later, all my emails were answered, photos and videos from Comic-Con interviews and panels that had been passed on to me as requested were posted, and I’d even reviewed several new account intake forms Luke had sent earlier in the day.

I got up from the desk chair, which was an ass-killer, stretched and plopped down on the floor. I couldn’t remember precisely when I’d last done yoga, and since I was caught up for the moment the perfect opportunity to cycle through some poses seemed to have presented itself. I didn’t bother with the mat as the carpet was so plush, and as I finished, lying in Corpse pose, it occurred to me that I had never in my life spent so much uninterrupted time with another human being. Normally, two days was my maximum before I’d freak out and need to be alone…yet here I was holed up in a hotel room that consisted of less than three hundred square feet of space, perfectly content to have him constantly in my presence.

Tom hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed, pillow tucked behind his back as he leaned against the headboard, one leg bent at the knee, arm resting on it, the other leg stretched out straight, his foot dangling off the bottom of the mattress. I’d always thought my ability to focus was superior, but he had me beat, perhaps by miles. It was no wonder why he was so good at his job…he invested every bit of himself, even in the tasks others would have considered unimportant or beneath them. 

Inspired, I returned to the desk, turned on my iPod, put in my headphones and began outlining a plan for yet another version of the Prosper website, one that would include detailed bios and CVs for of all our clients as well as links to their social media accounts. Everything else just faded away as I selected potential colors to use as a theme, all of which needed to coordinate with the existing logo. I was in the middle of typing up a message to Luke asking if he’d at least let me show him some alternatives to the white on black version he preferred, Bob Marley’s ‘Is This Love?’ blaring in my ears and reminding me of what I’d been pondering as I lay on the floor earlier, when the sound disappeared and all that remained was my own voice, singing loudly. Tom was standing next to me, finger having just hit the pause button.

I reached out and touched his hip. “Sorry if I disturbed you…I didn’t even realize I was singing.”

He extended his hand to me as he removed the earbuds from the jack, pulling me to my feet when I accepted it. “It’s a marvelous song, especially in your voice…I’d forgotten it even existed. Dance with me?”

Nodding, I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started it over from the beginning and his arms encircled my waist. We swayed back and forth as we turned round and round, staring at each other and listening to the lyrics.

I wanna love you and treat you right;  
I wanna love you every day and every night:  
We’ll be together with a roof right over our heads;  
We’ll share the shelter of my single bed;  
We’ll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread.

Is this love - is this love - is this love -  
Is this love that I’m feelin’?  
Is this love - is this love - is this love -  
Is this love that I’m feelin’?  
I wanna know - wanna know - wanna know now!  
I got to know - got to know - got to know now!

I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I - I’m willing and able,  
So I throw my cards on your table!  
I wanna love you - I wanna love and treat - love and treat you right;  
I wanna love you every day and every night:  
We’ll be together, yeah! - with a roof right over our heads;  
We’ll share the shelter, yeah, oh now! - of my single bed;  
We’ll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread.

Is this love - is this love - is this love -  
Is this love that I’m feelin’?  
Is this love - is this love - is this love -  
Is this love that I’m feelin’?  
Wo-o-o-oah! Oh yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now!  
Yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now!

I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I - I’m willing and able,  
So I throw my cards on your table!  
See: I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat ya -  
love and treat ya right.  
I wanna love you every day and every night:  
We’ll be together, with a roof right over our heads!  
We’ll share the shelter of my single bed;  
We’ll share the same room, yeah! Jah provide the bread.

At some point he took my hand in his to hold both of them to his heart and I rested my head against the other side of his chest, remaining there until the first strains of the next song began and he hit pause again. I could feel him burying his face in my hair, breathing me in. Reluctantly, I pulled back so I could see him. He looked…exhausted. Peaceful and serene, but exhausted. My hand rose to cup his cheek.

“You look very, very tired, Thomas.”

He chuckled. “Been a busy couple of days. It feels like…I don’t know how long, but every time I remember that it’s only Tuesday it blows my mind a bit.”

I frowned, recalling everything we’d endured in such a short span of time. “Sorry…”

My apology was cut short with a kiss, long and slow, his tongue tracing my lips then greeting mine with an ardent fervor. He extricated himself in order to speak, his voice gentle, one hand wound in my hair, fingers massaging the area just above my neck. “From now on, whenever you begin to apologize for something that doesn’t require one, I’m going to kiss you.”

My mouth curled in a half smile. “Er, I’m sorry?”

“Well, that turned out exactly as I expected.” He kissed me again, deeper, with a passion that made me shudder. “It’s well past midnight, woman. Time for bed.”

“Do you mean time for bed, or time for…bed?” 

“Whichever you prefer.”

I disrobed in ten seconds flat, flung myself on the mattress and patted the spot next to me. “Come on, Hiddleston. Up all night to get sweaty, right?”

He groaned as he slid his shorts down his long legs and whipped the T-shirt over his head. “That’s going to haunt me forever, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah. Forever and then some.”

****************************************  
We slept in until noon on Wednesday, walked to Café du Monde for coffee and beignets…both of us realizing that if we lived here we’d be in serious trouble because, hello addiction…then headed back to the hotel to get ready for the viewing. I pointed out buildings and homes I loved along the way, as well as the bus stops so Tom could get a feel for what travelling around the city had been like for me. We stopped to listen to a street performer playing a portion of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61. It was odd without the orchestral accompaniment, but glorious just the same. Tom placed a hundred dollar bill in the young man’s case, carefully tucking it down near the bottom to prevent it from tempting a passerby to help themselves.

“Hard to believe that piece is from two hundred years ago, isn’t it? Everything he did is still so…relevant. I keep hoping that Skrillex is going to incorporate some portion of Beethoven’s work into his own stuff at some point.”

Tom looked at me, head tilted to one side. “Who’s Skrillex?”

“You don’t know who Skrillex is.” I said it as a statement of fact as opposed to a question.

He shook his head. “Not a clue. Should I?”

I shrugged. “Maybe? He’s an EDM artist, and, in my opinion, a fucking genius. Lots of people can’t stand his music, but I love, love, LOVE it. He released his first album on his MySpace page as a totally free download, and then the next two as well, in 2010. He won three Grammys in 2011.” I poked Tom’s arm. “THAT is how you use social media to your advantage. I saw him perform in 2014 at Red Rocks in Colorado. It was awesome, even though I felt like I was the oldest person there. Someone actually asked the kid next to me if I was his mom. Not surprising, I guess, because I’d just left a seminar and didn’t have time to change so I probably looked the part. Anyway. I’ll play you something later. Kinda like the Prodigy, but more metal. Completely original.”

“I look forward to it.” He took my hand as we reached the hotel block, stopping in his tracks. “How are you, Maude?”

“I’m…I’m okay, actually. I just want it done, you know?”

He squeezed. “I know. If Will happens to show up…what would you prefer that I do?”

“Hadn’t thought about it, but…fuck…you shouldn’t have to even be involved in this. I’m really sorry…”

A kiss, short but sweet, interrupted me.

“Right. Not sorry. How’s this? I find it to be terribly unfair that you may have to encounter the epic douchebag that is my ex-husband, and I wish things were different. An apology, but…not.” I blanched. “God, I’m not sure I’ve ever said that before. Ex-husband. I think I may vomit.”

Tom embraced me and kissed the top of my head, then released me.

I bit my lip. “So. To answer your query…I can’t answer it, honestly. What do you want to do?”

The left side of his mouth twisted upward in a sneer. “Split his skull?”

I snorted. “Get in line.”

He laughed. “I’m aware that you’re perfectly capable of handling it on your own, but I still want to be nearby, just in case. Mainly because he’s gotten violent with you in the past. Is that okay?”

I paused, frowning. “Be nearby, yes. But if anything physical happens, please promise me you won’t raise so much as a finger unless there’s some sort of imminent danger. He’s the kind of asshole who’d try to get you to hit him simply because he knows doing so could damage your reputation.”

His brow creased. “Hadn’t thought of that aspect. I promise…it won’t be easy, since I already want to punch him repeatedly, but…I promise.”

I hugged him briefly. “Thank you, Thomas. See, if I punch him and the cops show up all I have to do is tell them he fucked my mother while he was married to me and is now crashing her funeral and they’ll be all like, hit him again, lady. We’ll be out getting some beignets if you need us.”

We began walking again, the hotel lobby only a few steps away. He held the door for me as we entered.

“Is it wrong that I’d love to see you give him a sound ass kicking?”

“Nope. I think it’s adorable. And, I’m overcome by the urge to apologize again but if you keep kissing me…yeah. It would be rather gauche of me to be late, would it not?”

He nodded, and we climbed the two flights in silence. His phone was ringing as we opened the door, and he let out a muffled ‘fuck’ in the hallway when he realized he’d forgotten it. He managed to catch it before it went to voicemail, and he mouthed ‘Legendary’ at me as he answered.

I hopped in the shower, attempting to shift my focus to something more pleasant whenever what awaited me crossed my mind. He stopped talking, and I heard his footsteps coming toward me and into the bathroom.

“They’ve reworked the cast, and we begin shooting in late October. On Oahu.”

I whooped. “MORE HAWAII!” I cleared my throat. “Assuming that I’m coming with you.”

“Well, I’m not going without you, so…”

“Good. But I insist upon staying in a nearby hotel, not in any housing they’re providing for you. When you and the powers that be deem it appropriate for me to take pics and so forth I’ll come to the set. I’m not into going full on Yoko Ono. You need to do your thing, bond with your co-stars and all that jazz.”

He opened the curtain, laughing. “Full on Yoko Ono. I love that. And I love you. As long as you don’t mind me showing up to be near you at all sorts of odd hours and sleeping there whenever possible I’m okay with you being in a hotel.”

I waggled my eyebrows. “Booty calls. I can hardly wait.”

He reached in and put his hand on my shoulder. “Maude, you’re so…different. It’s incredibly freeing, having someone in my life who…I can’t quite explain it. Probably because you’re naked.”

“Makes sense. I forget my own name when you’re naked. How about…understands that your occupation demands long and often unusual hours in faraway places?”

“Yes, but…more than that.”

“Okay…isn’t a total attention whore who can’t deal with not being able to parade you around 24/7? Who has her own interests and a job to keep her occupied while you do yours? Isn’t a massively annoying cling-on who’s so self-centered that she gets pissed when you can’t do what she wants when she wants to do it?” 

His smile took my breath away. “Yes. That. But you left out ‘is intelligent, confident, powerful, caring, amusing and sexy as fuck’. And I’m sure I missed a few, too.” He removed his hand from my shoulder and took his phone out of his pocket. “I’m pleased to inform you that I had an abundance of texts waiting for me, all of them commenting on our Tumblr video.” He began reading them to me. “From Hemsworth, ‘It’s wonderful to see you so happy, mate. Good on both of you.’ Evans said ‘Tom, you lucky bastard…she’s beautiful, and wicked funny. Tell me she has a sister.’ Ben’s comment was ‘That’s how it happens, you know…minding your own business and…BOOM. Can’t wait to meet her.’ And then there’s Downey’s, ‘Tommy. I know that woman. Don’t fuck this up. Oh, and Susan says MARRY HER RIGHT NOW.’” He was blushing, a deep pink color that began at his collar bones and reached all the way up to his cheeks. “There are a bunch more, if you want to read them later. Did anyone mention it to you?”

I laughed. “Thomas, my love…in order for friends to comment on such matters, one must first have friends. So, no. And I haven’t checked the post comments. That’s for another day.”

He waited while I finished, then stepped in to take his turn.

I kissed him on the cheek. “You are so very, very cute when you blush.” He shut the curtain in my face. “You’re doing it again right now, aren’t you?” He remained silent, and I chuckled to myself the entire time I was getting dressed, until he wandered out of the bathroom naked and dripping yet again…at which point all other thoughts escaped me.

He dressed as I put on makeup and wound my hair into a bun, cursing occasionally at my ineptness, then finally saying fuck it and letting it hang loose. After fastening the tourmaline necklace into place, I went back out into the main area. Tom looked stunning, as always, in the grey pants he’d worn at Comic-Con, a black button down shirt, grey knit tie and black patent shoes. He had his light grey jacket in his hand.

“Should I wear this, do you think?”

I shook my head vehemently. “Not unless you want the next funeral to be yours. You’ll fucking sweat to death.”

He peered at me quizzically. “Surely they have air conditioning.”

“Yes. They do. But no one ever turns it up enough. I hope I’m wrong, but…yeah.” I slung my bag across my body after looking at the clock. 3:30. “Ready?”

He nodded, and we made for the car.

****************************************  
The receiving room was painted a pale yellow, with a yellow-gold carpet and drapes to match on the wall behind the casket. Brown wooden chairs with avocado green leather seats and backs that clashed horribly with the pink roses had been arranged in neat rows, though I doubted we’d need them. I didn’t anticipate much of a crowd, unless they were coming purely for the schadenfreude, in which case it might be standing room only. Mrs. Henderson came out of a side door to greet us.

“Hello, Maude. Have you seen her yet?” I shook my head, and she motioned for me to follow her to the front of the room. Tom grabbed my hand and came along. The pink dress looked garish, but that would have been the case even if she was still alive. I had to admit that the cosmetologist had done an exceptional job…her color was nearly normal, cheeks fleshed out (with what, exactly, I was sure I didn’t want to know) and blush applied, her hair washed and styled, fanning out on the white pillow behind her. “She looks beautiful, and so peaceful, doesn’t she?”

I wanted to scream, but I nodded instead.

She pointed to a grouping of three chairs to the left of the casket. “You can stand or sit until guests begin arriving, whichever you prefer. If this room gets too full, you’re welcome to have folks wait in the one next door…your mother’s is the only visitation we have remaining for today. I’ll be right behind this door if you need anything, and at 6 PM you’ll have the opportunity to say goodbye privately before we seal the coffin.”

I flopped down gracelessly in the chair furthest away, tossed my bag on the floor and put my head in my hands, elbows on my knees. Tom sat next to me, gently rubbing my back until we heard a familiar voice.

“Maudie! Thomas! There you are.” She was wearing a black dress with a white lace collar, a black and ivory cameo at her neck. She walked toward us, then peeked in the coffin before taking a seat next to Tom. “Wow. They did a nice job.”

Tom and Anne chatted about the screenplay while we waited for people to show up, and listening in was a welcome distraction for me. I checked my phone and discovered it was already 4:30, and not a single soul had come by.

The next hour seemed to drag on endlessly, with only six visitors…our former chef and housekeeper, two neighborhood ladies that my mother couldn’t stand, Barty, and Reverend Thompson, who indicated that he always turned out for such things when he was officiating the at the funeral. Barty, who’d apparently been Anne’s lawyer for years before she relocated to California for the second time, lingered, pulling a chair over and sitting beside her so they could catch up.

By 5:45 I thought we were in the clear, but moments later the yelling started. It was distant, but I knew immediately who it was. Lord knows I’d heard his voice at that volume often enough throughout the course of our relationship. I couldn’t make out all of what he was saying, but I did hear ‘fucking cunt’ and ‘does she think she is’ quite distinctly. Tom was engaged in conversation with Anne and Barty, and he paid me no mind when I got to my feet. Boots echoed down the hallway, thumping on the hardwood floors, and then there he was, in the doorway and storming through it, headed straight for me.

I laughed out loud when I took in his appearance…I’d forgotten how short he was, barely as tall as me when I was in bare feet and he was wearing shoes, and I was reasonably sure that I’d tower over him in my three inch heels. He’d put on at least fifty pounds, belly hanging over the top of his jeans, black and white Nirvana T-shirt two sizes too small. His hair still hung long, midway down his back, but his hairline had receded more than halfway on the sides above his temples, leaving nothing but a tufty grey-streaked strip running down the middle of his head. The jeans were filthy, his tan work boots shabby and unlaced, and a plaid flannel was tied around what passed for his waist, partially invisible under his protruding stomach. Other than the weight gain and the hair loss, he looked pretty much the same as when I’d left…meaning, those might just be the same exact fucking clothes he’d worn for days at a time seventeen years ago. Hopefully he’d laundered them at some point.

As he drew closer I realized he really didn’t look the same at all…his complexion was ashen, eyes bloodshot with dark circles under them, skin wrinkled and leathery, lips cracked and chapped. He was speaking, pointing a finger in my face, but I couldn’t hear him, my only focus intent on the amount of dirt underneath his fingernail. I suppressed a gag as the fact that I’d slept with this disgusting piece of shit rose to the surface of my mind. As I pushed the thought away his voice, southern accent as thick as ever, became clear.

“…show your ugly face in this town, sneakin’ behind my back and tryin’ to take what’s MINE. But I FOUND OUT, because I KNOW PEOPLE and I got told YOU were there Monday with your fag actor boyfriend and that there was a fuckin’ realtor car there yesterday…you can’t fuckin’ SELL it, it’s MY house now…”

I squared my shoulders as my arm shot out, hand wrapping around his hairy wrist and squeezing tightly, voice icy and dripping with condescension.

“If you plain on retaining possession of that particular digit I’d strongly advise you to cease waving it in my face.”

An expression of surprise crossed his countenance briefly and was quickly replaced with rage. He tried to twist away from me, but my own rage had tightened my grip well beyond my ordinary level of strength, to the point where tears began to well up in his eyes from the pain. I let go, smirking.

His hands dropped to his sides, balled into fists. “You ain’t gonna do another goddamn THING until we see a LAWYER, Maude. I want what’s MINE.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m sorry…what do you mean, you want what’s yours? NOTHING is yours. She died intestate.”

He stomped his foot. “I don’t care what the fuck it was that killed her…all that matters is she’s dead, and she left me everything. It says so in her will.” He whipped a stained, dog-eared sheaf of papers out of his back pocket, unfolded them and tapped his finger to the front page. “Right fuckin’ HERE.”

I’d heard Barty snicker at his reply to my intestate comment, and I could feel the fiendish grin spreading across my face. Granted, there weren’t as many people present as I would have liked for the show, but I was going on with it anyway.

I rolled my eyes. “Intestate means without a will, you fucking moron. Which, in turn, according to the laws of the great state of Louisiana, means that everything goes to ME, not YOU. And it was the booze that killed her…technically alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver, but I think I’ve already exceeded your fifty-cent word limit for the day, so let’s just leave it at booze.”

He screamed and waved the papers in my face. “I HAVE THE WILL RIGHT HERE, YOU STUPID BITCH!”

Mrs. Henderson popped her head out and asked if everything was all right…I nodded and waved her away, and Anne got up and followed her into the adjoining room.

I shook my head. “Shut up and listen very carefully, William. After you left town with wife number three, Mary filed a statement with her attorney revoking all existing wills and codicils after marking the most recent one VOID. That’s the one you keep waving around there, by the way. She knew you had a copy, and she wanted to make sure you got precisely jack shit.”

He took a step forward, snarling. “YOU’RE A FUCKIN’ LIAR!”

Barty stood up and walked to my side. “Mr. Bonaventura, I’m Bartholomew Stevens, Mary Bonaventura’s attorney.” He pulled a document out of his inner jacket pocket. “Here’s a notarized copy of her revocation statement as well as the will she marked void. You’ll find it’s identical to the one you already have in your possession. Ms. Gallagher is 100% correct. The entire contents of the estate passes directly to her as the only surviving child. Go ahead and take those to your own lawyer and he’ll tell you the same.” As he went back to sit next to Tom he winked at me, and I wanted to kiss him.

I could see Will’s wheels turning, trying to figure out how he could get something out of this. I dove in before he could speak.

“Sorry asshole, no payday for you. Guess it’s time to find another cash cow to milk, especially since your most recent one’s run dry as well.” His eyes widened. “Yeah. I know. Took me a while, I’ll give you that, but all the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. You dragged me to Vegas and got me blackout drunk so I’d marry you because you thought I was rolling in dough. When you found out my mother was the one with all the money, you started fucking her and she fell for your bullshit hook, line and sinker. Once hers ran out, you latched on to Anna Beth. Rinse, lather, repeat.”

He took a step forward. “You begged me to marry you. You said you loved me. And you sure fucked me like you did.”

Without pausing to consider the consequences of my actions, I leaned back, made a fist and swung, hitting him square on the mouth. His head flew to the side, blood spraying from where I’d split his lip.

“The only reason I ever fucked you AT ALL was because I was DRUNK, you worthless piece of shit. My heart had just been torn from my chest not once, but TWICE, and I couldn’t face the pain. You were nothing more than a convenient excuse so I could tell myself I was an ARTIST who liked to party, not a raging alcoholic. I NEVER loved you. And you knew it. And that’s why you tricked me into marrying you, abused me, belittled me, accused me of cheating and played all your other mind fuck games. That and the fact that you didn’t want me to notice that you were fucking MY MOTHER before you were certain she was all yours.”

He lunged at me, and I saw Tom stand up out of the corner of my eye as I grabbed Will by the shoulders, kneed him in the balls, then shoved him backward. I motioned for Tom to sit back down as I steadied myself, balancing on one heel even just for a few seconds having thrown me off balance. His eyes narrowed, but he complied.

Will was doubled over, and I bent down, got close and screamed in his face. “It’s bad enough that you’ve done this all your life, grifting and sponging off everyone else because you’re too fucking lazy to get an actual JOB and won’t let your stupid dream of hitting it big because you’re such a great guitar player DIE, but now you have CHILDREN who are COUNTING ON YOU to PROVIDE FOR THEM. Newsflash, fucktard. You’re too fat, too bald and too old for anyone in the industry to even look twice at you, and your guitar playing is mediocre at best. The only reason your band was popular back in the day was because of ME. People came to hear ME sing, not to hear YOU play. And that always burned your ass too, didn’t it? I hope it still does. Every fucking day.”

He stood upright as best he could, arms still clutching his stomach, staring at me like he had no idea who I was.

“This didn’t turn out quite the way you expected, did it? Sorry to disappoint, but the coward of a girl I was when you knew me…the one who let you walk all over her and treat her like she was worthless and stupid…she’s been dead for years, Will. Her father blowing his brains out killed her drunk ass off and a goddess took her place.” I pointed at my chest with my thumb. “This, this is the REAL me. The me that’s going to pay off the mortgage on my crazy fucking mother’s house so I can sell it later for a huge profit. The me that’s going to sell every single fucking thing that’s in it, too. Your toys, your instruments, every piece of equipment in the recording studio, her shit, ALL OF IT. And would you like to know what I’m going to do with the proceeds? Of course you would. I’m donating every single penny to a crisis organization for victims of domestic violence, the Metropolitan Center for Women and Children, right here in New Orleans. Appropriate, don’t you think? It won’t make up for any of what you’ve done to me, or to Anna Beth, but it will surely help a LOT of women move on from their OWN Wills, and it’ll absofuckingloutely put a smile on MY face every time I think of how much my doing it pissed you off.”

The staring continued, his eyes wide with shock.

I waved my hands at him in dismissal. “We’re done here. Time to go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. And do not, under any circumstances, show up here tomorrow for the service OR at the cemetery. Unless you want me to kick your sorry ass some more, that is.”

His brow furrowed, and I couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled a Neanderthal. He turned and walked slowly toward the doorway, then looked back at me, the fire still gone from his eyes but unwilling to let me have the last word.

“This ain’t over. You’ll be hearin’ from my lawyer, you fat fuckin’ cunt.”

I laughed. “Looked in the mirror lately, Will? Fat cunt is a much more appropriate description of YOUR appearance these days, not mine. I’ll be waiting with baited breath for your attorney’s call. In the meantime, get the fuck out of here.” He didn’t move until I took a step in his direction, then finally exited the room and stomped down the hall.

I remained in place for several moments, rewinding and replaying it all in my head. A smile spread across my face, so huge and wide that it was almost painful. I turned around to see everyone standing, eyes on me. Barty, Anne, who I had no idea had come back into the room, and…Tom. He’s the one who began applauding first, and the others joined in immediately.

I held up my hands in a stop gesture. “You should NOT be rewarding this kind of behavior, folks. Where’s Mrs. Henderson, I need to tell her how so very, very sorry I am…”

Tom strode over, embraced me, picked me up and spun me around, mouth on mine as he set me back down, sucking on my lower lip until I moaned. Barty cleared his throat and Tom released me.

He glanced in Barty’s direction and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t help myself.” He turned back to me, whispering. “Maude…you are, indeed, a goddess. MY goddess.”

I whispered in return. “Are you going to worship me later?”

His reply was a barely audible hiss in my ear that made me shiver. “Yessss.”

Barty appeared behind Tom, clapping him on the back. “So, who’s up for some dinner at the Palm Court Jazz Café? One of my favorite haunts. The food is damn tasty…” He patted his belly. “And I enjoy it as often as I can, as you can clearly see. My treat, of course.”

Anne answered first. “Count me in. I’m in just the right mood for some jazz. And Mrs. Henderson went to make sure Will actually left the building. She said not to worry, that this kind of thing happens more often than you’d imagine, and to just leave when we we’re done and she’d take care of the rest.”

Tom met my gaze, raising an eyebrow. I nodded and spoke for both of us. “We’re in too. But it’s MY treat, Barty. You being here with those papers…epic. So, so epic.”

He laughed. “A little bird was kind enough to inform me that Mr. Bonaventura had arrived in our fine town, and I had planned on coming anyhow. Always be over-prepared…every attorney’s mantra. I’ll let you buy, darlin’. Next time’s on me, though.”

I smiled. “Fine. Why don’t you and Anne go on ahead and get us a good table?” I looked over to the casket, then back at Barty. “There’s something else I need to do here.”

He nodded, took Anne by the arm and walked her out.

Tom put his hands on the sides of my face. “Would you like some privacy?”

“I’d like you to stay, if you don’t mind.”

He nodded, then removed his hands and slid one arm around my waist as we walked up to the coffin. He let me go when I stopped to pick up my bag on the way. After staring at her face for a few moments, I took a deep breath and began to speak, knowing that my adrenaline high could slip away at any moment, leaving me a quivering, shaky mess. 

“Mary. I’d call you Mom, but…you weren’t really that, were you? So Mary it is. Better than what I’d really like to call you, that’s for sure.” I reached in my bag and pulled out the brown leather box with the maroon tapestry inset that held my father’s revolver. I heard Tom inhale sharply, but he didn’t speak. “I know you left this for ME, but…I want you to have it. And you will, now, forever. Theoretically. What Dad did…in the end it was his choice, but you’re the one who betrayed his love. And what a love it was. Yet you threw it away like it was nothing, and because of that, he was already dead before he pulled the trigger. But his heart kept beating in spite of how he felt, so he had to finish the job. Anyway. None of it was my fault, and his tomb is sealed, so, here you are. A little parting gift to enjoy while you rest eternally at his side.”

I put the box down inside the coffin, below her hands and out of sight.

“All of my life, I could never understand why you didn’t love me. And I always thought it was because of something I did, or who I was. Now I know it wasn’t me at all…that’s just what you wanted me to think. The real reason you never loved me…and, scratch that…the reason you hated me was because you regretted the choices you made in your own life, and because you were jealous of me. That, at least, makes sense. Of course you were jealous. I’m everything you were never capable of being, or becoming. The best you could ever do was dress yourself up and try to look pretty enough so that no one would notice that you were nothing more than a monster in an expensive dress. I wasted so much time…my god, the TIME…feeling like I’d missed out on so much because I never really had a mother, when, in truth, the only person who missed out on anything was YOU. You had an amazing, beautiful, intelligent, funny daughter who loved you despite everything you did to her. You never got to know me, you never cared to know me, and now you never will. My love for you turned to hate long ago, but now…even that’s gone. I feel…nothing. You’re nothing. But I’m something. Because I’m still here. You did your best to destroy me, but you couldn’t. Not completely. I’m too strong for that. Stronger than you. And I’m happy. Happy with my life, and happy that you’re finally out of mine. For good. There’s no coming back from where you’ve gone. Every night the last thing on your mind before you fell asleep may have been how you wished I’d never been born, but the last thing on MY mind every night before I fall asleep is… love. So, fuck you, Mary. I win. You lose. Game over.”

I turned around and began to walk toward the doorway, but Tom stopped me.

“When did…how…”

“You used the bathroom after the real estate agent left and I snagged it. Still wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it, but…”

His arms wrapped around me, and he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “You’ve left me speechless again, Maude. God, how I love you.” He pulled back, smiling softly at me. “Ready to go?”

I nodded. “Fuck yeah. I’m starving.” I paused. “And Tom…thank you, once more, for being here. And not judging me. I love you too.”

“You’re very welcome. Though I have to admit, I did, in fact, judge you.”

I shot him a look. “I’m sorry, what?”

He laughed. “I judged you. And my verdict is that you throw one mean fucking punch, woman. In heels, even.”

I slapped his upper arm. Lightly. “You know, I had no idea I could do that. It felt really, really good. TOO good. Maybe I should take up boxing.”

We walked through the doorway together, and he leaned into me. “Not a bad idea. Then you could serve as my bodyguard as well.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, Thomas, you can’t expect me to do EVERYTHING.”

He held the building door open for me, whispering seductively as I passed by him, his hand cupping one cheek of my ass. “As long as you do me, nothing else matters.”

“Shut up, Thomas. Please. Shut. Up.”

He laughed all the way to the car, finally quieting down when I distracted him by hiking my skirt more than halfway up my thighs as I sat down in the driver’s seat. Then it was my turn to laugh…until his hand found its way between them in the parking lot. And mine found its way into his pants. We were slightly more than fashionably late when we finally made it into the restaurant, but Anne and Barty were too busy dancing to notice.


	22. Chapter 22

Midway through my Chicken Ambrosia the adrenaline high wore off, and I hastily excused myself in order to rush headlong to the ladies room as panic set in. I locked the door behind me and sank slowly to the floor, not giving a single thought as to its cleanliness. The shakes began, my entire body shuddering and quivering, ears ringing and vision blurring. Images of Will cycled through my mind’s eye, like a poorly coded website slideshow that shifted too quickly and transitioned awkwardly, harshly jerking from one photo to the next. Scenes from when we were together, snapshots of the altercation at the viewing. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t turn them off. Eyes open or closed, there they were.

Doubt overwhelmed me, about what I’d done tonight, and before. About how this would affect Tom once the media latched onto any of it. More than anything else, I felt ashamed. Ashamed of what a shambles I’d allowed my life to become back then, ashamed that I’d never had the balls to face up to it until now, ashamed that my choice of partner had been so abysmal. 

Memories of our intimacies surfaced, causing me to feel desecrated and profane. Though short in stature, Will had been attractive when we met, exotic, with a borderline androgyny many men proudly displayed in the late nineties. The beauty that appeared on the outside, unfortunately, was not an accurate depiction of what lay on the inside. Perhaps I’d been too shallow to smell the rotten underneath the surface, or just too damaged. Or too drunk. A composite of all three, maybe. And for the love of all things holy, as well as all things not, how hadn’t I noticed how thoroughly and consummately unintelligent he was?

None of that mattered, I supposed, because if he decided to take any of this to the press, the only thing the public would be presented with was a very carefully selected unflattering video or photograph of the man, with a caption that went something like ‘Tom Hiddleston’s girlfriend, Maude Gallagher, assaults former husband, Will Bonaventura, at mother’s wake’. I could only hope that his lack of wit would prevent him from considering such a thing as a means of vengeance, but such hope was almost certainly false, as he’d always been clever enough to take advantage of anyone and anything that crossed his path if he deemed it beneficial to him in some way.

“Maude, for a smart woman, you sure manage to do some seriously dumb shit. What the fuck were you thinking? Goddess, my ass. More like village idiot.”

There was a knock at the door, and I was about to yell ‘occupied, be out in a minute’ when I heard Tom’s voice, muted but strong, on the other side.

“Maude? Everything okay?”

It wasn’t, but I didn’t think it appropriate to shout out that I was fucked up and in need of a cocktail, so I dragged myself off the tile, stood and unlocked the door. Upon opening it the noise of the band hit me full force my brain’s response was ‘Maude, we need to get the fuck OUT of New Orleans RIGHT NOW’.

Tom’s expression shifted from mildly concerned to genuinely worried upon seeing me, and he gently walked me backward as he pushed his way into the room. Hands on my shoulders, he bent and met my gaze directly, speaking softly.

“What’s wrong, love?”

My eyes squeezed shut as I shook my head, back and forth, back and forth, like a metronome. He leaned into me, body warm against mine.

“Maude, talk to me. Let me help.”

A sigh escaped me as I opened my eyes and found his face inches from mine, his breath on my lips.

“I fucked up, Tom. Royally. Like, really, really seriously fucked up.”

His head tilted to the left, a hand reaching up to smooth my hair back from my forehead. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

I laughed, a hollow, near-maniacal sound. “I can’t believe it myself, but I did so nonetheless. What I did was so, so stupid. Universally stupid. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but ME. So, so selfish. And STUPID.”

Frowning, he leaned back so his weight was no longer on me, then rested his hands on my hips. “You are not stupid. Or selfish.”

Shaking my head again, I threw my hands up in the air at shoulder level. “Oh, but I am. What happened with Will. Epic mistake. Beyond epic. I didn’t stop to think about the consequences of my actions. Me. ME! Miss social media and PR expert. I didn’t, not for one single fucking second, stop to consider what effect my assaulting him could have on YOU, Tom. We go public with our relationship yesterday, so we’re totally on the radar, and then I proceed to punch my ex-husband in the face and knee him in the balls. In public. With YOU THERE. If he goes to the press with this…my GOD. You have an impeccable, scandal-free reputation, and I may have ruined it in the space of twenty minutes. Christ, what the fuck am I going to tell LUKE? He should fucking fire me…how will this make HIM look? Fucking hell!”

“Maude.”

“What? Even if he leaves out the assault part…BOOM, it’s public knowledge that I’ve been married before, and to whom, plus the rest will all just come out with it, or shortly thereafter. Because I just HAD to shoot off my big fucking mouth to settle a nearly decades old score with someone who means NOTHING to me. Pointless. Stupid. I’ve failed you completely, on a professional AND personal level.”

“MAUDE.”

“WHAT?!” Realizing I’d raised my voice to an unacceptable level for a public restroom, I cringed. “Shit. Let’s try…what?”

“Step back from this. View it as if we’re both your clients and you’re completely outside of it all.”

“But I’m not.”

Both of Tom’s eyebrows rose as he took my hands in his, but he remained silent.

“Okay. Fine. Poof…I’m an outside observer.”

“Now, what advice do you have for us? If we leave this restaurant, or if we arrive at the funeral tomorrow, and the place is crawling with reporters…what do we do?”

“I…Maude…answers their questions. She needs to be truthful. She might want to consider presenting an abridged version of her story. How old she was when she married him, under what circumstances, and that she found out he was cheating on her with her mother and then filed for divorce. That he married her mother as soon as it was final. No need to mention more than that unless pressed. If the assault comes up, she should say punching him was out of line, but that kicking him in the balls was self-defense because he lunged at her. Maybe blame the punch on grieving and stress. You should…”

He interrupted me. “I’ll stand with you, hold your hand, and be honest, no matter what I’m asked.”

I shook my head. “I was going to say you should just remain in the background, actually. Or not be there at all.”

“Not happening.”

My jaw tightened as I tried to hold back the thoughts I’d decided to keep to myself, to no avail. “Thomas. As much as I appreciate your wanting to be supportive, let’s be real…part of you has to be embarrassed, if not downright disgusted, by the fact that I was married to that man. As well as re-evaluating my so-called intelligence, and perhaps my sanity, because I willingly chose such a partner. God knows I am. Though in my defense, I was drunk for essentially the entire duration of our relationship.”

The laughter began in his chest, slowly working its way upward, finally bursting forth from the mouth he’d been fighting desperately to keep closed. My eyes narrowed as a frown contorted my features.

“Maude. Good Christ. I’m sorry, it’s not really funny, but…” He inhaled sharply through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth as he attempted to contain himself, his expression turning earnest. “Maude. Are you embarrassed or disgusted by MY poor choice of previous partners? Not exactly cream of the crop, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“No. Of course I’m not. I’d like to dispatch them without prejudice, but disgusted? No. Not with you, anyway. And as far as embarrassment…they should be the ones who feel that way because of their behavior.”

He rested his forehead on mine, leaning against me once more. “Well, there you go. That’s precisely how I feel as well.”

“Good. But you should know that that I’m disgusted with myself over it. And I’m not just embarrassed…I’m MORTIFIED. I mean I slept…”

His lips on mine interrupted me, warm and wet, his mouth tasting of fennel and wine. He’d hesitated when it was offered, but accepted a glass when I squeezed his thigh under the table, only taking a few sips when Barty proposed a toast, then a few more with dinner. I pulled my hands from his, reaching behind him to grab his ass and propel his pelvis forward. The whine that escaped him was exquisite, and I felt him fully harden against me.

Breaking the kiss, I whispered in his ear. “What’s the matter? Hand job in the car not enough to tide you over until after dinner?”

He answered, the sound somewhere between a growl and a broken moan. “Noooo.”

My tongue traced the shell of his ear, then in behind it, stopping to lave at the spot behind his earlobe that would inevitably make him squirm. “Would you like to fuck me, Thomas? Right here? Right now?”

His hands rolled my dress above my waist, panties absent, having been previously sacrificed to clean us up in the car. I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and slipped them down over his hips, resting my hands there, thumbs on the indentations just below his belly button. He grabbed my left leg at the knee and lifted, weight pressing me against the brick wall as I wrapped it around his waist and he entered me, sinking in to the hilt as he began to thrust urgently.

“Your hand on me was thrilling, Maude, but nothing, NOTHING can compare to your pussy. Being inside you. So hot. So wet. Clamping down on me…”

I squeezed, and his words morphed into a long, low moan that I smothered with my lips, sucking his tongue into my mouth. His movements grew rougher as he pounded into me, grunting like an animal, and I came, walls clenching around him, trying my damnedest to be quiet. He buried his face in my neck to muffle his own cries, hands cupping my ass and clasping me to him.

We remained still for several moments until his chuckling tickled my neck, and when I began to fidget he raised his head to meet my gaze. “You weren’t kidding about the heels making it easier to fuck you standing up.”

There was a knock on the door, and, frankly, I was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. I grabbed some toilet paper, mopped up what I could, then pulled my dress down. Tom zipped himself up and began washing his hands. When the knocking sounded again, this time firmer, I replied loudly.

“Sorry, be right out!”

There was no answer, and as I washed my hands and began drying them, Tom unlocked the door and opened it. I peered past him to see a startled young woman, skin the color of mocha, eyes a glowing amber, with black, spectacularly curly hair reaching her shoulders, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

His face wasn’t visible to me, but I knew the megawatt smile was firmly in place.

“Terribly sorry for the delay. My girlfriend wasn’t feeling very well, I’m afraid.”

She gave him some serious side eye as I peeked over his shoulder. “Yep. I feel much better now, though.”

She laughed, a deep, rich, melodic sound, then looked Tom up and down. “Oh honey, I’m damn sure you do.”

We exited with as much dignity as we could muster, and the woman was still laughing as the door closed behind her. On our walk back to the table, Tom snuck in a slap to my left ass cheek just as my right foot was about to land on the floor. It knocked me off balance, and the heel of my right shoe hit the tile at the wrong angle, slipping out from under me and turning my ankle in the process. Down I went, like a sack of potatoes right in the middle of the restaurant, just a few feet from where Anne and Barty were sitting. Tom was squatting at my side in an instant, panic in his eyes. My first thought was ‘fuck, I hope my cooter isn’t hanging out’, but it was quickly replaced with ‘fucking ow ow ow OWWWWW’ when I shifted and my right ankle moved, sending white-hot, searing pain shooting through me.

Tom ran his right hand through his hair, then leaned in to examine me more closely as he got on his knees. “I’m a fucking IDIOT. Are you all right? Fuck. What am I saying?! I know you’re not all right…I saw your face just then when you moved your foot. Is it broken? Oh my god, I am so, so, so sorry…” He’d begun to tear up as he reached in his pocket for his phone. “Do you need an ambulance? Let me call for help.”

I grabbed his wrist. “Hiddleston, don’t you DARE dial 911. There is no way I’m leaving here on a stretcher. Take off both my shoes and help me up. Please.”

His bottom jaw moved to the right, eyes still on mine, color drained from his face. “You’re hurt, and we don’t know how badly. You shouldn’t do anything without obtaining the opinion of a medical professional first.” Lowering his chin to his chest, he continued to berate himself, mumbling about how stupid he was, that he’d acted like an overgrown thirteen year old and now look what he’d done. I could see his pulse pounding in his neck, and the rapidness of his respirations began to worry me…I was all too familiar with the symptoms of an anxiety attack, that was for fucking sure.

My hand left his wrist and settled on his chest, over his heart. “Tom. It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s just a sprained ankle. Not my first one, either. It’s okay. You’re okay. I love you. Breathe, baby. Breathe. Nice and slow.” I watched him inhale through his nose and exhale via his mouth several times. “That’s it. There you go. Everything’s fine.”

A few nearby tables were staring, and Anne and Barty had made their way over to us. I held my other hand up and proceeded to address the nearby onlookers from my spot on the floor, nearly shouting to be heard over the band.

“Apologies for the disruption. Sprained my ankle. Everything’s cool. High heels are NOT my thing. Party on, folks.” There were shrugs, raised glasses and a few verbal well wishes as everyone went about their business.

Anne pointed at my ankle. “That’s already swelling, kiddo. Looks like you’re going to need a trip to the ER.”

Tom had placed his hand over mine, and when I glanced back at him I observed that most of his color had come back. I made a half-hearted attempt at taking off my own shoe, but he sprang into action and removed the one from my good ankle first, then set about doing the same for the injured one. I winced at his touch, and he cringed.

“Yank it right off, dude. Fast. Please.”

He nodded, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself from screeching like a banshee as he pulled it over my heel and off my foot. When I caught sight of his crestfallen face, I prodded it with my tongue and tasted blood. Barty brought over a chair.

“Here ya go, son. I’ll help you get her up, all right?”

Tom shook his head. “Thanks, Barty, but we’ll be fine.” With that, he positioned himself on my right side, squatting again. “What’s the way to do this so it will hurt the least, love?” 

“Stand above me, in front of me, and lift me up by my armpits? I’ll use my left leg for support. It might not hurt less, but at least my dress will stay…down.”

It was a challenge, but we pulled it off in one try, and he lowered me to the chair as if I was a fragile piece of china. Kneeling in front of me, hands on my thighs, he smiled gently. “I’m going to go and bring the car round to the front entrance, okay?” I nodded, and he stood, kissing my forehead along the way.

“I’ll be right back.” A mischievous smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

My eyes rolled back into my head. “Well, I had been contemplating a nice long run, but…”

Anne brought some ice from the bar and tried to get me to put my leg up on another chair, but I refused. The ankle felt fine just as it was, mainly because I was holding my leg so my foot remained suspended an inch above the floor, and I knew if I moved even one iota that would change in a most unpleasant way. Tom was back in three minutes flat, gracefully navigating his way through the tables toward me. He stood to my left, bent over halfway, slipped his left arm under my knees and the other around my upper back, hand in my armpit.

“Arms around my neck, please.”

“Ummmm…are you planning on carrying me out of here?”

There was no reply, only the sensation of him beginning to lift me. I rolled my eyes again as I wound my arms around his neck. Anne and Barty went out ahead of us to assist with the doors, and the entire restaurant stared as Tom carried me through the building and out the front, and there were smatterings of applause and several whistles.

When we reached the car he set me down so my back was towards the door opening. Balancing on my left leg and using my arms to slow my descent, I managed to sit down and twist to the side, but my injured ankle remained up in the air and outside the vehicle. Tom bent my right leg at the knee, eased the car seat back as far as it could go, then worked my leg slowly into place. When my foot touched the floor I grabbed the sides of the seat, muttering ‘fuck me’ as I held it up again, and Tom ran back into the building.

Anne leaned down, passed me my bag and heels, then stuck her head inside. “Maude, honey…that man is a keeper if I ever saw one. You know that already, though, don’t you?”

“I do.”

She smiled. “Good. The way the two of you look at each other…it makes me want to write romance novels.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You already write romance novels. Granted, the romances are often dark, disturbed, misplaced, unrequited and thoroughly inappropriate…but still. It’s romance.”

Her mouth opened to comment, then closed without saying a word as Tom returned, several small, white towels in hand. He grinned.

“From the kitchen. Only cost me one selfie.” He placed them on the floor in a pile, fluffed them up, and I set my foot down gingerly. The pain was tolerable.

“Nicely done, Hiddleston. Thank you.”

He kissed my briefly, buckled my seatbelt and closed my door. As soon as he got in the driver’s seat and started the car, I opened my window to say goodbye to Anne, then Barty, whom I advised that I’d decided to have him handle all the mortgage bullshit in my absence, as well as any other crap that might come up. He said handling shit was his specialty, laughing as we pulled away.

****************************************  
Tulane Medical Center was the closest emergency facility, located approximately 2 miles from Palm Court. Tom wanted to carry me in, but I sent him along on his own to find a staff member to bring out a wheelchair for me instead. Getting out of the car sucked balls, but being pushed around was oddly relaxing. Registration was first, and there wasn’t anyone else waiting, which I took as a good indication that we might be out of there before tomorrow morning. Then came the vitals check, and I could tell that the attending nurse recognized Tom, mainly from the way her hands shook when she took my blood pressure, periodically sneaking looks in his direction and clearing her throat. She escorted us to an exam room that more resembled a pastel holding cell, where we were instructed to wait for further assistance after I hefted myself onto the exam bed. Another nurse appeared immediately, early forties, short, blonde and plump, dressed in light pink scrubs with hearts on them. Her voice was entirely too cheerful, whipping the rainbow sorbet colored curtain shut behind her but leaving the stainless and glass sliding door open.

“How we all doin’ tonight? I’m Sharon. I just have a few questions for you, and Dr. Luthra will be along shortly, all right?”

I nodded. “Hi, Sharon. I’m Maude, and this is Tom.” He was seated in a chair across the room. As I pointed in his direction I noticed that he’d removed his tie and undone the first three buttons of his shirt. I bit my lip, and it stung as the cut there reopened.

Sharon smiled widely. “Nice to meet you both.” Her eyes moved to the chart in her hand, then back up to my face. “So, took a spill, did you?”

“Oh yeah. Three inch heels. Lost my balance. Fell in front of the packed to capacity crowd at the Palm Court Café. Though I think my ankle hurts worse than my pride, for the moment.”

She patted my shoulder. “You poor thing. The tortures we endure to make ourselves pretty!” Her head shook back and forth, and she walked to the foot of my bed to examine my injury.

“Hoo boy, that is swollen. Lie back, please.” She lowered the head of the bed until it was flat, then raised the foot as high as it could go. “I know that feels odd, but keeping the ankle above the heart will reduce the swelling. Dr. Luthra’s going to want an X-ray for sure. Now, how would you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt?”

“Right now, it’s a five. But when I put weight on it or move it around it’s an eight.”

Sharon marked her chart and nodded. “Currently taking any medications?”

“Yes. Birth control pills. Ortho Tri-Cyclen. I skip the placebos to suppress menstruation. Approved by my gynecologist.”

She frowned slightly, marking the chart again. I sighed, silently bemoaning how disappointing it was that women still got all fucking judgy about such things. Periods suck, and when you’re on the road all the time, they suck even harder. Why not make them go away? And why care about what I do? It’s my body, after all. “Any allergies to medications?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

The smile had returned to her face, though now I knew that her jovialness was mostly an act. “That’s all for now. The doctor will be in as soon as he’s able.”

Tom got up and dragged the chair he’d been sitting in over to my bedside, turned so he could face me. I held out my hand.

“Hiya.”

He grasped it and squeezed gently. “Hello.” Lips brushed my knuckles. “Maude, I…”

The index finger of my other hand wagged at him. “If you’re going to apologize again, don’t. Shit happens. I could have just as easily wound up this way all on my own.”

The right corner of his mouth curled up in a tiny smile. “Okay. How about I thank you instead?”

“Umm, sure…for what, exactly?”

“It’s my fault you’re injured, and there you were, sprawled on the floor, hurting, and I just…lost it, I suppose. You knew exactly what to say, though. I felt better instantly, calm, ready to do what needed to be done. So thank you for that. I only wish I could alleviate your pain in a similar fashion.”

“You’re welcome. Anxiety and I go WAY back. I know how to shut that bitch down…”

At that moment, Dr. Luthra knocked on the outside of the room’s glass and entered. If I had to guess, he was barely my age. His hair was jet black, eyes a chocolate brown, and sported a neatly trimmed mustache.

“Miss Gallagher, I am Dr. Luthra. It is my understanding that you’ve injured your ankle. How is your pain?” I was unable to discern whether his accent was Indian or Pakistani, but it didn’t matter…it was beautiful, precise and somehow calming. Accents had always fascinated me…the same word, spoken in a completely different way, yet meaning the same thing. To me, they transformed language into music, and our whole world into an orchestra of verbalized thoughts.

“That’s correct. My pain is…eh.”

Dr. Luthra laughed. “Would you like something for it? We prefer to use non-narcotic…”

I interjected. “That’s fine by me. I prefer to not take them.”

He laughed again. “Oh, a tough cookie, are you? I’ll have the nurse come in with some Tramadol before you go, then. It will ease the pain and reduce swelling, which is very important, but normally has no effect on mental acuity. After tonight the maximum dose of ibuprofen should probably do the trick. Have you consumed any alcohol today?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Now, let me take a look at that ankle, okay?”

I nodded. Tom let go of my hand, got up from his chair and began to move it, trying to avoid being in the doctor’s way.

Dr. Luthra motioned him back down. “No, no, you’re fine there. Keep holding her hand. She’ll need to grab onto something, I’m thinking. I’m going to have to rotate the joint and push and prod to gauge the level of sprain, and then we’ll do an X-ray to be sure nothing is broken. If that is the case, I’ll then apply an aircast walking boot. Crutches may or may not be needed…we won’t know until we put on the boot.”

My hand flew up in the air as if I was in a classroom. “I’d like to apologize in advance for the long list of profanities that will soon be assaulting your ears, Dr. Luthra.”

“Thank you, Miss Gallagher. I appreciate the warning, and am hoping I hear something entirely new to me.”

Tom chortled. “There’s a very strong possibility that you will, Dr. Luthra.”

Three hours and a surprisingly minimal amount of swearing later, I was booted, on crutches and ready to get the fuck out of there. The diagnosis was either a first or second degree sprain…the only way to tell for sure was an MRI, which I refused. The boot would need to stay on everywhere but in the shower for at least seven days after wearing it for the first twenty-four hours straight, and whenever I was on my feet for another seven after that. If it didn’t seem to be healing by that point, I’d need to see an orthopedist and perhaps undergo physical therapy. Which sounded like a boatload of fun for my first two weeks in England. The nurse who assisted with the boot noticed that I had no shoes and brought me a surgical sock to wear so I wouldn’t have to wander around barefoot. I’d been on crutches the last time I’d sprained it, back in high school, and there was no boot, only an ace bandage wrap. The boot was pretty funky, black plastic with an air split inside. I could almost put my full weight on it, but Dr. Luthra figured that was because of the Tramadol and instructed me to use the crutches anyway. Tom had paid close attention as to how to remove it, put it back on, and re-inflate the air bags because, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to, the Tramadol had made me more than a little loopy and my attention span was close to nil.

On the way to the car I yelled ‘whee’ every time my body swung between the crutches, which Tom graciously ignored, though he did load me into the vehicle and shut the door rather quickly. I whipped out my iPod and plugged it into the auxiliary jack, then turned to him as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat, giggling madly as he started the car.

“Tommy, do you know what time it is?”

“Oh, Tommy, am I? Yes, my love. I know what time it is. It’s approximately eleven twenty-seven. PM. Like it says there on the dashboard. ” He pointed at the lit-up digital clock.

I swiped at his arm, fingers barely brushing it. “No, no. Not THAT kind of time. THIS kind of time.” I cranked up the stereo volume and pressed play on my iPod. “It’s SKRILLEX time!”

The eleven minutes it took to get back to the hotel were probably some of the longest of his life, but he did seem to enjoy Ease My Mind and Breakin’ a Sweat. Kyoto, not so much. He even asked me nicely to skip it. Which I refused to do.

We took the elevator to our room, and I wound up requiring his assistance while changing clothes after getting my dress stuck on my head. After he wrangled me into a T-shirt and some underwear, I flopped on the bed and sang my favorite parts of Closer by Nine Inch Nails at the top of my lungs. He’d quickly stripped naked and slipped into his running shorts, but the T-shirt he’d intended to put on hung limp in his hand once I reached the chorus.

You can have my isolation  
You can have the hate that it brings  
You can have my absence of faith  
You can have my everything

Help me  
Tear down my reason  
Help me  
It’s your sex I can smell  
Help me  
You make me perfect  
Help me become somebody else

I want to fuck you like an animal  
I want to feel you from the inside  
I want to fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed  
You get me closer to god

Though it was a challenge, I managed to focus in on his face after he let the breath he’d been holding out in a loud whoosh, the sound stilling my voice. His eyes were closed, cock tenting his shorts, hand around the T-shirt now gripping it so firmly his knuckles were white. I stared, my eyes roaming all over his body, admiring his taut stomach, the curve of his chest, the freckles that peppered his skin. The bed creaked as I began to push myself off of it to go him, and his eyes flew open at the sound. At first, they were almost frighteningly dark with desire, but then he blinked several times, breathing deeply, and the next time our gazes locked they’d returned to normal.

He closed the distance between us and put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me back down on the bed. His voice was unevenly modulated, betraying the war waging within him. “You, my love, need to rest that ankle. I’m going to get some additional pillows from the loft bed, and then I’ll read to you, if you like.”

The reduced processing speed of my mind was astonishing. He’d brought back the pillows and situated me on the bed, lying me down with my leg propped up so it was above my heart, before I was able to formulate an answer.

“Yes. I’d like. Read to me.”

He settled in by my side, Interview with the Vampire in his hand, kissed me softly and began.

****************************************  
It was Tom’s voice that had soothed me to sleep, and it was his voice again that awakened me. But this time, there was nothing at all soothing about it. As the fog of dreams slowly lifted, I realized he was on the phone.

“Mum. I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call, and I’m sorry I didn’t mention any of this to you. I was planning on bringing her to meet you in person after we got to London. I honestly don’t see…” A pause, then he spoke again, volume raised and obviously agitated. “That isn’t anyone’s business but ours, now, is it? And you’re divorced yourself…why would it matter to you in the slightest that she’s been married before?” Minutes of silence. “Oh, come on. She’s doesn’t need a dime from me, Mum. She’s got her own career, and her own money.” A long pause, his tone softening when the conversation resumed. “Listen, I appreciate that you care about me and want what’s best for me. So much. Yes, it’s sudden. Yes, it’s all happening incredibly fast. Yes, I do tend to jump headlong into things. I know that. But Mum…this is different. She’s different. This is it. Maude is…she’s…she’s the part of me that I’ve been missing all my life. The other half of my soul.” He’d gotten up from the desk chair, which he’d moved across the room. “No, I’m not overly romanticizing anything. That’s how I feel. And so does she, for which I am thankful beyond words. I can’t believe we’re having a row about this…it’s terrible. Trust my judgement, Mum, and don’t pass yours on her until you’ve had the opportunity to know her. That’s all I ask. Because this is the real deal. I’m asking her to move in with me, and I’m reasonably certain her answer won’t be no.” More silence. I shifted on the bed, and the damn thing creaked yet again. “Mum, I’ve got to go. Again, I’m very sorry you found out that I have a woman in my life because Emma saw it online. I love you. Talk to you soon.”

He hit the end call button, walked over to the bed and sat down next to me. “Good morning, gorgeous. How’s your ankle?”

I sat up, leaning back on my hands for support. “Hurts like hell. So…anything you’d like to tell me?”

Tom sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Nothing I’d like to tell you. But things I should tell you? Yes. How much of that did you hear?”

“Entirely too much.”

He bit his lip. “Okay, then. So, actually, there’s one thing I would like to tell you. Well, ask you, really. I was going to wait until we got to New York, but…I…erm…will…fuck, this is terrifying…no, no, not what…it’s… even though I think I know, what if you don’t…that’s what’s terrifying…”

“Thomas, are you attempting to ask me if I’d like for us to live together?”

His head lolled back, eyes closed. “Yes, thank you. Yes I am.”

“Allrighty then. Yes, I would. We pretty much already are, aren’t we? I said ‘live together’ because ‘move in’ seems weird since we’re both away from home so often, but the particulars don’t really matter. All I know is that wherever you are, I want to wake up next to you whenever possible.”

He began to pull me onto his lap, but stopped when I winced and settled for embracing me instead. “I love you, woman. Thank you. Yes, we already are…I guess I just needed to say the words. I agree, particulars don’t matter. We’ll work that out as we go. Maybe we should look for a new flat, at least in London, something we pick out together? How much stuff do you have?”

I laughed. “Books. I have lots of books. Other than that, not much. My apartment is fucking TINY. So. Anyway. Care to fill me in on how your mother, who obviously hates me already, discovered that I’m a divorcee?”

“Oh. Right. That. I’ve been on the phone all morning…I’m surprised you slept as long as you did. First with Luke. Then my sister Emma, then Luke again, and then Mum. And I’m sorry about her behavior. Once you meet, everything will make sense to her. I’m sure of it.”

A yawn contorted my face, arms stretching way up above my head. I glanced at the clock, figuring it was much too early for Luke to be up, but it read eleven AM. “Shit, it’s that late? Good lord. Oh, sorry. Carry on, Thomas.”

“Luke was up because their flight leaves at eight. And it’s five PM in London now. Anyway, it appears that nearly every publicly available detail about your life has made its way to Tumblr, as well as every other corner of the internet. With no involvement whatsoever from Will, as it would appear.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the crutches from the floor next to it. “Well. Band-Aid right off indeed, I guess. I have to pee. Would you mind getting my laptop out and putting it on the bed for me?”

He nodded, and I used the toilet without further injuring myself, which felt like a huge accomplishment. The computer was waiting for me, as was my phone. Tom had gotten up and was scrolling through his own phone as he paced. I opened my browser and searched my name on Tumblr. Post after post, the basic facts correct…Will’s name, my mother’s name, the fact that we’d divorced and he’d married her, her funeral details. Other than that it was endless speculation as to the how and the why of it all. There were even photos from when I’d been at my heaviest, taken at various conferences, most likely obtained from the conference websites. And then I saw the pièces de ré·sis·tance…a somewhat racy photo Norman had taken of me, and one of us holding hands at Comic-Con in 2010, him kissing my cheek.

“Jesus motherfucking Christ tap dancing on a fucking saltine cracker. Have you seen…?”

“Yes. The photo of you and Norman, and the one he took of you are on the Daily Mail. Along with the video we made. It’s not an altogether unfavorable story, actually…”

I’d opened the site as soon as he mentioned it and scanned the article quickly.

Tom Hiddleston confirms romance with Prosper PR Social Media Director, Maude Gallagher

\- Sorry, ladies…Tom Hiddleston is officially off the market. A video the couple posted on Hiddleston’s Tumblr blog Tuesday confirmed the rumors that have been swirling over the past several weeks. Gallagher’s first task as newly appointed Social Media Director for Prosper PR, of whom Hiddleston is a client, is working solely with Hiddleston to re-vamp his online presence. According to our sources, the totes adorbs pair are currently in New Orleans to attend the funeral of Gallagher’s mother, Mary Bonaventura, who passed away on Saturday. A native of New Orleans, Gallagher left the Big Easy for the Big Apple in 1998 after the tragic suicide of father Sean Gallagher, and shortly thereafter divorced her husband of fourteen months, William Bonaventura. Founder of Maude Gallagher, LLC, an internationally known social media consultation firm with such A-list clients as Anne Rice, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Robert Downey, Jr., Gallagher is no stranger to the celebrity dating scene, either, having spent some one-on-one time with Walking Dead star Norman Reedus in 2010. The two were snapped canoodling at Comic-Con, and Reedus included a boudoir-style shot of Gallagher in a 2013 exhibition of his photography. Hiddleston is set to begin promo tours for his three soon-to-be-released films over the next two months, Crimson Peak, I Saw the Light, and High Rise, followed by the filming of Skull Island this fall. 

“No, I guess it could have been much fucking worse. We even got a ‘totes adorbs’. And I suppose, on some level, I’m grateful that they outed me without my having to do it myself. But was it really necessary to mention that I dated another actor? Like, five years ago? And post photos? Where did they even FIND those? Tom, I did give him permission to include it in his exhibition, but never gave a thought to…”

He looked up from his phone. “Twitter. They found them on Twitter. Norman’s Twitter, to be precise.”

Eyes cast downward, I struggled to grasp what he was saying. Tramadol was officially on my ‘keep that shit away from me’ list. Though at this point, the blame could be placed on a multitude of other things. Like the fact that Tom screaming ‘you’re just a pathetic little famewhore’ in my face kept repeating over and over in my head, like a Vine video, six seconds, endlessly looping. I told myself that I’d forgiven him, that I had no right to mention it again, but the tears began to spill over anyway. I felt his weight on the bed at my side, then his arms around me, cheek pressed against mine.

“Oh Maude…I’m so sorry. It’s reminded me of the awful things I said the other night, and if I’m upset I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. It’s okay.” His voice broke. “Please don’t think I’m angry with you. I’m not. And if you’re angry with me, I understand.”

I wiped my tears away, sniffing. “I’m not angry. But yeah, it’s circling in my head, like a vulture or something. Sorry. I’ll get over it. I just…I feel like…I don’t know. Like I did something wrong. Even though it was before I knew you. Does that make sense? I guess that’s why I had the breakdown about Will yesterday. Even though I didn’t know you when I was…you know…whenever I think about it, it feels like I betrayed you somehow. Same thing with Norman.”

He nuzzled my neck, stubble tickling me. “Yes. It makes sense. I feel horribly guilty when such thoughts cross my mind. Which has never happened to me before, I might add.”

My logic kicked in suddenly. “How did you know those came from Norman’s Twitter account?”

He leaned back so he could see me, arms still holding me tightly. “He told me they did.”

“I’m sorry…what the fuck do you mean ‘he told you they did’?”

“He phoned me earlier, after he’d seen them. To apologize.”

I could feel my brows rise as my head tilted to the side. “You talked to Norman. On the phone. When he called to apologize.” He nodded. “What was he apologizing for, exactly?”

“For causing us any additional stress, especially at such a difficult time. He noticed yesterday that they were being re-tweeted, and then he saw the Mail article. While he thought it was tasteless that they’d felt the need to use something he considered art as a sensationalist tactic, he was pleased they’d at least gotten the timeframe correct. He said he rang your phone, but when he got voicemail he figured he’d try mine.”

“Where the hell did he get your number?”

“Guillermo.”

“Clever. I can’t ever imagine anyone being pissed at him no matter what he does. Did he actually use the word ‘tasteless?”

Tom smiled. “I believe his exact phrasing was something along the lines of ‘Those assholes, how fucking disgusting is it that they take something so beautiful, a work of art, man, and twist it into a sex sells scandal clickbait bullshit item? No respect for women, man. Or art. Fuckers.’”

“That’s more like it.” Finding myself at a loss for words, I clicked on the photo to enlarge it. Tom stared at the screen and began rubbing my back. I felt compelled to explain the circumstances of how it had come into being, but figured he wouldn’t want to know, so I slammed the laptop closed. “This is really, really, REALLY fucking awkward. I’m sorry it exists, and I’m sorry you had to see it, and that someone I used to date took it…”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad to have seen it. He’s correct. It is a work of art. You’re a work of art, Maude. How could anyone resist capturing a moment like that? I took a look at some of his other photography online…he’s quite talented. Everything is very spontaneous, visceral…yet perfectly composed.”

My head turned in order to face him. “This is hurting what’s left of my brain, Thomas. Do you, like, LIKE Norman? Because…that would make it like fucking Seinfeld all up in here. Worlds. Are. Colliding.”

Tom guffawed. “Let’s leave it at I no longer thoroughly DISlike him, shall we?” His laughter ceased, but a faint smile remained. “When I saw his name come up on my phone, I’ll admit it…I was significantly less than delighted. But after we spoke for a bit I realized that it mustn’t have been an easy thing for him to do, either…yet he did it anyway. It was a very kind gesture. When commenting on the article, he blurted out ‘wow, man, I had no idea she was married before’, and in that moment any residual jealousy I’d been harboring simply vanished, because it became clear to me that you’d been absolutely truthful when you said you’d never loved him.” The look I shot him made him blanch, and he let go of me and put his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Not that I didn’t believe you before. That came out wrong. Fuck. Sorry. What I meant was…it…I…”

My hand squeezed his thigh. “I know what you meant. That I never cared enough about him to want to reveal anything of importance finally solidified what I said for you. It was a very kind gesture, though, and I want to say thank you. Maybe we can call him together later?” Tom nodded. “Good. Now I’m going to tell you how that work of art came to be.” He shifted uncomfortably. “It’s actually pretty funny. We were heading out to yet another party I didn’t wish to attend wherein I’d inevitably encounter drunk and angry Norman. I’d met him at his place, having stopped along the way to get a cup of tea, and pretty much as soon as I walked through the door I tripped over his cat and spilled it all over my shirt. His ex-wife kept some clothes there for when she was in town dropping off or picking up their son, and when he told me to help myself I laughed and laughed. Because, Helena Christensen…supermodel. He said she liked to wear oversize stuff when she travelled and that something that would fit me for sure, so I decided to prove him wrong. That white man-tailored shirt was the largest thing I could find, and I put it on and walked out into the living room and posed, my way of saying ‘I told you so, jerky.’ Before I could say a word he grabbed his camera and started shooting. In the end I wound up wearing a KISS T-shirt instead. Much to my dismay. So. There was nothing boudoir about it. At all. Just clumsy me entertaining the masses. Though I guess I do look kind of hot. That’s the only decent thing my mother ever gave me…a really nice rack.”

He swept my hair aside and ran his tongue across the back of my neck. “Mmm. You’re even hotter now. Which reminds me…that song from last night…”

I was perfectly cognizant of what song he was referencing, but was reluctant to discuss it as there wasn’t enough time for a proper fuck fest before the funeral. I opted to make a most likely fruitless attempt at diversion. “YAY, you DO like Skrillex!”

“Well, perhaps, but that Kyoto one is…no, that’s NOT the song I’m talking about.

“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for?”

His eyes rolled so far back all I saw was white. “Closer. THAT song. It took Herculean effort to not shag you senseless, in case you were wondering. But I knew you were impaired, which would have made doing so inappropriate, in my opinion…but perhaps you’ll sing it again for me later?”

An evil grin broke out across my face. “I guess. As long as you comply with my demand and let me fuck you like an animal afterward…”

His groan was interrupted by my phone ringing. It was Barty. I hit the answer button and put him on speaker.

“Good morning, Miss Maude. How’s the ankle?”

“Hurts like a mother f…it hurts bad. But once I have some ibuprofen I’ll be right as rain. Just a sprain, and they gave me a walking boot. Which is wicked stylish, of course.”

He laughed. “I’m guessing y’all haven’t watched any local news this morning. Am I right?”

Tom frowned. “We haven’t. Is something wrong?”

Barty laughed some more. “Not exactly. In fact, I’m of a mind you’ll think that something is very, very right when I tell you about certain events that occurred overnight.”

I poked the phone. “Well, now I’m excited. Spill it, oh great solicitor.”

“Approximately five minutes after one in the morning, the security alarm sounded at the Winchester residence. They’re at 2469 St. Charles…right next to your place. Been there since 2001 or so. It was a break in, and they recognized the perpetrator when they went downstairs, baseball bats in hand. It was none other than one William Bonaventura, drunk, brandishing a knife and raving about how he didn’t care what anyone said, he was taking what’s his. He proceeded to carry several pieces of furniture, several electronic devices and an array of knick-knacks out to a truck in the driveway before the police showed up. He then took off and drove said truck, which turned out to be stolen, down the street and crashed it into a telephone pole. When they arrested him they discovered that he was not in possession of a valid driver’s license, but was in possession of two ounces of marijuana and had a blood alcohol level of two point one percent. I have yet to see the laundry list of charges against him since there’s been no arraignment, but I do know that he will do a minimum of ten years for the armed robbery alone.”

I glanced over at Tom, grinning like a Cheshire cat. As was he. When I spoke, I found it impossible to contain my exuberance. “Soooo…the fucking idiot went out, tied one on, got pissed off and decided to get even, stole a truck and then robbed THE WRONG FUCKING HOUSE? This…this is…ohmyfuckinggod…I know it makes me a terrible human being, but the SCHADENFREUDE. Bwhahahahahaha…”

“Miss Maude, it does no such thing. Stupid is as stupid does, as Forest Gump’s mama used to say. And that boy…all he’s ever done is stupid. Well deserved, I say. You go on and enjoy it. My apologies, but I have a client arriving in a few, so I must be on my way. Give me a jingle when the title for the house is ready for transfer.”

Tom and I both shouted “Thank you, Barty!” and I ended the call.

Speechless, all I could do was shake my head back and forth slowly. I caught sight of the clock, noticed it was eleven forty-five and began to freak out. “Shit. Shit shit shit. We still have to shower and get dressed…” I looked down at my aircast. “Fuck. How, exactly, am I going to shower? It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet, and I HAVE to shower, because I’m all hospitaly and icky…”

Tom rose from the bed, went to the desk and picked up two garbage bags and a roll of duct tape. “Got these from the maintenance person this morning. We’ll just wrap the boot so it won’t get wet, and I’ll help you stand if you need me to. I already showered, so all I have to do is dress.”

His thoughtfulness reminded me of the depth of my love for him, and he for me. It surged through me, eclipsing everything else I was feeling. “Thomas, you are just…just…thank you. Thanks for taking care of me last night, and all this week, and…”

A kiss cut me off, and he knelt between my legs, cautiously lifting my foot and slipping the bags over the boot. “It’s my pleasure, Maude. Having someone to care for…having you to care for…it makes me feel whole. Complete. And so very, very blessed.” The smile he flashed as he finished taping and held out his hands to help me up turned me into a pile of goo. “Come on, now. Time to get you nice and wet.”

I snorted. “Hiddleston, I’m already nice and wet.”

He rested my weight against his chest, hand slowly working its way down my belly and inside my panties, chucking as I shuddered when he made contact, fingers delving between my folds. “Of course you are.” I whined when I felt his hand disappear, only to reappear as he brought his fingers up to my mouth, tracing my lips. I stuck out my tongue to lick them, but he pulled them away and thrust them into his own mouth, sucking eagerly for a moment, then releasing them with a pop. “Wet and delicious.”

I gasped, then a throaty moan followed. “THOMAS. PLEASE. STOP.”

He laughed as he grabbed the crutches and handed them to me. “Never, woman. NEVER. Shower time. Move along.”

“Fine. Fucking bastard.”

“I do love you so, my Maude.”

My eyes narrowed as I scowled at him. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” I placed a tiny kiss on his jaw. “I love you too, Thomas. Let’s get this shit over with so we can get run away to New York. The Carnegie Deli is calling my name, baby, and you’re buying.”

“I’m buying?”

“Did you honestly think I’d forget about our last bet? About the number of notes on your first Tumblr post? Please. It’s a free meal. That stays on the hard drive for-ev-er.”

His mouth crashed against mine, tongue searching, tasting of me. He broke the kiss within seconds, leaving me even more frustrated than I’d already been. “I remember. And I can’t wait. For dinner, for New York…and everything after.”

I grinned in spite of my case of ball-less blue balls. “Me either, baby. Me either.”


	23. Chapter 23

When we arrived at Estelle J Wilson, there wasn’t a parking spot to be had. Even those earmarked for funeral attendees were taken, and as we drove past the main entrance to head around the block in search of one for ourselves, there they were…news vans from local affiliate stations WWL, WDSU and WGNO. A few feet down I spotted the paparazzi, four or so as best I could tell, lurking and waiting.

I turned to Tom, smirking. “Weh-hel, THIS is going to be a lot more interesting that I anticipated. Apparently.”

He pulled into an open space two blocks down from the funeral home and put the car in park. His right arm rose, then settled on my shoulder, hand grasping the back of my neck, massaging gently. “You okay to do this?”

I shrugged, enjoying the way the fabric of my dress seemed to float around my arms. His massaging continued in spite of my movement. “I’d like to tell you to turn around and go back to the hotel, but somehow I don’t think me not showing up for my mother’s funeral would improve upon the situation. And I know I’ll have to talk, because, hey-o, I can’t even run past them. But, on the bright side, at least I had the sense to wear my yoga shorts underneath the dress so there’s no chance of a wardrobe malfunction during any of this.”

Tom laughed, lines appearing around his eyes, relaying the story of a man who enjoyed doing so and had for his entire life. “Thank god for small favors. If I happened to get a look under there at this point they’d all be in for far more of a show than they’re equipped to handle.”

“Dude. Was that supposed to help? Because…not helping.” I leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips, then opened my door. The ibuprofen I’d taken had helped immensely, and I was fully capable of walking without crutches, albeit slowly. Chances were that using them, though, might garner some sympathy from the press. Tom watched me pull them out of the car, eyebrows raised. “One, I can move faster if I use them. Two, I want everyone to feel sorry for me. Sorrier. Don’t ruin my moment, Hiddleston.”

“Perhaps I should carry you instead if it’s attention you’re seeking.”

“Not attention. SYMPATHY. If you carry me, people will feel LESS sorry for me. Not part of the plan. Plus, it’s like, two blocks and you’d fucking keel over. Also not part of the plan.”

He got out of the vehicle and came round to the passenger side, my messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Thomas, you are a god among men, unashamedly carrying your woman’s purse.”

His eyes lit up, and he pointed at it. “This? This is NOT a purse, darling. THIS is a EUROPEAN CARRYALL.”

I raised my forearm up as far as the crutch would allow. “Nice. Second Seinfeld reference of the day. High-five.”

The palm of his hand connected with mine, tenderly, and our fingers twined together. “Remember, I’m going to be right there with you. And if you don’t wish to say anything, simply don’t say anything.”

“Um, I’m sorry…I’m supposed to be the one telling YOU that, yes?”

He grinned impishly. “Tables, Maude. Oh how they turn.”

As we reached the news vans, the noise began, seven people shouting out questions all at once, cameras and mics pointed in my direction. The cacophony caused my brain to shift into crisis management mode, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Tom stood at my side, transferring his weight from one foot to the other. My gaze moved from one reporter to the next, looking them straight in the eye. The noise died down, then out. I took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Hello there. How’s everyone doing today?” They turned to one another, shoulders shrugging, faces contorting into expressions of puzzlement, unsure as how to proceed. “Under normal circumstances, I’d be happy to give you all the time you need, but I’m running behind as it is and have in inkling that it would be just a wee bit disrespectful if I were to be late for my mother’s funeral service. That being said, I think I DO have enough time for one question from each of you.” I pointed to the young, dark-haired woman in the floral print dress holding a WWL microphone.

She cleared her throat, then motioned to her cameraman to begin recording. The other two crews followed suit, and I assumed the paps were recording as well. “Ms. Gallagher, do you have anything to say regarding your ex-husband’s arrest?”

I had plenty to say. So, so much to say…ninety-nine percent of it unsuitable for television. “First, allow me to mention that the Winchester family has been in my thoughts ever since I heard the news. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to have someone invade the sanctity of your home, where you’re supposed to feel safest. And someone armed…it must be terrifying. Mr. Bonaventura’s actions were deplorable, and I trust that the Louisiana justice system will dole out the appropriate punishment when the time comes. Next question, the gentleman from WDSU. And please, call me Maude.”

He was short, chubby and dressed in a tweed jacket that I was certain made him feel like he was in the ninth circle of hell. “Maude, is it true that he intended to break into your mother’s home but chose the wrong house in error?”

Suppressing the smile that fought to spread across my face was a daunting task. “That’s my understanding, yes.”

The reporter from WGNO didn’t wait his turn, and exceeded his inquiry limit within seconds. “Why would he need to break into her home? I’ve seen a copy of the will…it was to go to him, without question. Are you contesting it? Have you taken possession illegally? Did you lock him out? Is that why he did it?”

What a total douche canoe. I wanted to slap him, but stared him down instead as I prepared my reply. “Gosh, I think that was five questions, not one. I know, I know…math is hard, right? Anyway. My mother died intestate, which means the entire contents of her estate passes to me according to Louisiana law. The will that was in Mr. Bonaventura’s possession was revoked, and another was not created. You can contact her attorney, Bartholomew Stevens, if you have additional questions regarding the matter. As to why he did it, my guess is he came back to New Orleans expecting something, and when it turned out that something was actually nothing, he grew rather malcontented. Next question, you in the red T-shirt.”

He held out his phone to better capture our exchange, sun creating a halo around his blonde, curly hair. “Maude, is it true that Mr. Bonaventura cheated on you with your own mother, and that your father killed himself because of it?”

Tom muttered something under his breath, and I hoped I was the only one who’d heard. The inner calm I felt in the face of a question that would have caused a breakdown just days earlier made me feel damn near invincible. “Absolutely correct.” I pointed at the young Asian woman dressed in a bright purple track suit and pink Converse Hi-Tops. “You’re next, please.”

Her face was an expressionless mask. “According to Passages Hospice, you never visited your mother there prior to her death. Is that accurate, and if so, why?”

“Yes. That’s correct. As to why…my mother suffered from alcoholism and Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Though, in actuality, it was everyone close to her who did the majority of the suffering. Her cause of death was alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver. The last time I saw her was in 1998, when I walked in on her and Mr. Bonaventura during an intimate encounter. No-contact is a widely accepted method for dealing with toxic people in order to facilitate recovery. I was contacted by the hospice when she passed as I’m the only next of kin. Gal in the tank top…your turn.”

The tank top was an old-school wife beater, paired with khaki shorts that reached her knees. Her white- blond hair was short on one side, long on the other, with pink tips. “My sources tell me that you’re an alcoholic too. True or false?”

My jaw tightened. They’d obviously been speaking with ‘mourners’ in spades, and it was no surprise that a good number of people here still thought of me as drunkard Mary’s drunkard daughter. “In September of 1996, my boyfriend was killed in a car accident. Shortly after his funeral, I discovered I was pregnant. Soon after THAT, I miscarried. I found myself unable to cope with such profound loss and used alcohol to self-medicate. Since I honestly can’t say whether I wasn’t capable of stopping or just chose not to during the time I was drinking, alcoholic is probably an applicable term. I’ve been sober for seventeen years, though. Last question, gentleman with the man bun.”

He laughed briefly, then frowned slightly, as if he was reconsidering asking what he’d planned to. “Hello, Maude. I spoke with Mr. Bonaventura’s current wife, Anna Beth, this morning via phone. When I asked her how she felt regarding his arrest, she expressed relief and indicated that he abused her verbally and physically. Is that something you experienced during your marriage to him?”

I gave a curt nod. “Yes. It was. Unfortunately, it was something I’d endured for years in my own home prior to marrying Mr. Bonaventura, so it didn’t seem abnormal to me until after I removed myself from the situation. If my sources are correct, Anna Beth was very young when she met and married him, as was I. It is my hope that this incident will allow her to move on with her life, heal and find the peace she deserves. Okay, folks. Apologies, but that’s all I have time for. Thanks so very much for your cooperation.”

Man bun raised his hand, then pointed to my walking boot. “Maude, I’m pretty sure we’re all wondering how that happened. Would you mind…”

My eyes rolled skyward. “Damn, and here I thought you wouldn’t notice.” Laughter rang out. “I wore heels to dinner last night, and they got the best of me. Right down on my ass in the middle of the Palm Court Café. It’s just a sprain, two weeks and I should be good. Seriously, though…gotta go. You all enjoy the rest of the day.”

They stepped back and to the side, allowing us to pass. Four crutch swings later Tom appeared in front of me, the admiration in his eyes flooring me completely and freezing me in place. Two steps brought him close enough to lean in to kiss me, admiration replaced by ardor and fire, grasping the back of my neck with one hand, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth so forcefully that I came. It was a tiny orgasm, over and done in two seconds, but an orgasm nevertheless. His grip on my neck tightened, and I knew he must have felt me shudder. He deepened the kiss, and as our tongues met I heard camera clicks, faint, as if they were down at the end of a tunnel, far away. A distant repetition of ‘Excuse me, Ms. Gallagher?’ grew ever louder, finally snapping me back to reality. I pulled back, looked past Tom to discern the source, and was mildly humiliated upon seeing Reverend Thompson standing there. His face was as red as a cherry tomato, the flush extending down his neck and, I assumed, beneath his clerical collar.

He cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back. “Ms. Gallagher, we’re about to begin. Follow me, please.”

Tom remained in front of me, a look of astonishment on his face as he mouthed the words ‘Did you…?’ I plastered a polite smile on my countenance, nodding at him as I addressed the reverend.

“Apologies, Reverend Thompson. Thank you for your patience. Lead the way.”

As we walked toward the entrance Tom fell into step beside me, whispering in my ear. “An orgasm. From a kiss. MY kiss. Man alive, I feel like a fucking rock star right now.”

My head spun in his direction, ponytail swishing back and forth across my neck in its wake, eyes narrowed. His mouth dropped open, then closed again as he reached out to touch my bare shoulder.

“Maude, I’m sorry, that was a dreadfully self-centered thing to…”

I grinned and shook my head, speaking softly as he removed his hand. “I’m just screwing with you, Thomas. That lip thing…it…DID something to me. Anyway. Allow me to assure you that you are a fucking rock star. MY rock star. And as an added bonus, it would have REALLY pissed my mother off to know that I was making out with the sexiest man alive at her funeral.”

“That’s not a title People magazine has bestowed upon me as yet, Maude.”

“I’m well aware of their prior woefully inadequate choices. But I just did.”

“And that’s infinitely more meaningful, of course.”

“Nice save, Hiddleston. If they don’t put you on the cover soon, though, they’re going to be getting some…calls.”

We’d reached the front door, and Reverend Thompson held it open for us. The service was being held in the same room as the viewing, and as we approached I could see it was packed well beyond its limit. After pausing for a moment to prepare myself to walk the gauntlet, I opted to do so without the crutches, resting them against the wall to the right of the doorway. Reverend Thompson motioned for us to enter before him, and Tom offered his arm. I gratefully accepted, and as we crossed the threshold all heads turned, row by row, gazes fixed upon us. Tom’s face was expressionless, the dark blue of his button down shirt reflecting in his eyes, black trousers sitting low on his hips, black leather tie perfectly knotted at his neck. Even less graceful than normal due to the height difference of my walking boot and my black Birki, I kept myself in check by counting the number of steps it took to reach the front of the room where the closed casket rested, covered in a blanket of pink roses. Two seats were vacant in the front row, on the aisle and next to Anne. The whispers began when we were halfway there, fifteen steps in. My head remained high, jaw firmly set, as I passed by the throng of people who’d decided attending the funeral of someone they hadn’t given the remotest shit about in order to obtain a firsthand account of the event so they could later spread any juicy gossip they managed to gather was an ideal way to spend a summer afternoon.

Tom continued to hold my arm until I was comfortably seated next to Anne, then took his place at my side. Anne patted my knee as Reverend Thompson half-jogged to the front and began. I put my right hand over hers and squeezed, and Tom reached out to take my left one in his. After the introductory portion of the service, I zoned out, Reverend Thompson’s voice becoming very similar to that of the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. All I heard was ‘wah wah, wah wah wah wah wah, wah wah’, and eventually even that faded away into nothing. Man bun’s words haunted me, and my thoughts turned to Anna Beth. I’d been strong enough to get away from Will on my own, but I’d actually had somewhere to get away TO, the funds to get there, AND enough to start over with. Those were luxuries she did not possess, and there were three children she’d need to support on her own going forward as well, another hurdle I hadn’t had to clear. Marrying at such a young age had more than likely put her in a position wherein she had little to no employment experience, and few marketable job skills…or none whatsoever. Though I’d intended to donate the proceeds of the estate sale to the Metropolitan Center for Women and Children, I found myself seriously considering sending them her way instead. It would have to be done anonymously, of course, and Barty already had a way to contact her. Part of me felt as if I’d be slighting the many to help the few, but in this instance it was personal. We had an ill-fated kinship, Anna Beth and I, born of lies emanating from a man who’d used us for his own nefarious purposes, violence and mental abuse his means of controlling us so we’d never dare to question a single blessed thing as he fulfilled his unscrupulous objectives.

The sound of the crowd around me rising to their feet derailed my train of thought, and I left my seat as fast as I possibly could, not wanting anyone to have the slightest indication that I hadn’t been paying any attention to the service. At all. Tom’s arm slipped around my waist, and we remained where we were until the rest of the room cleared. Anne offered to join us at the cemetery, asking to hitch a ride in our rental car as she’d taken a cab to the funeral. I was pleased to discover that the news trucks had departed, but the paps remained, photographing and filming Anne and I as we waited for Tom to bring the car round for us. At Greenwood it was just the three of us, the hearse driver, and the folks responsible for the interment procedures. I remained back at least fifteen feet from the crypt, silent the entire time, having already said my final goodbyes to the people who’d brought me into this world. We left for as soon as they began the closing process, and I looked back over my shoulder one last time as we made our way out of the garden, wanting this moment to be my last memory of my mother. Dead. Gone. Sealed inside a coffin, inside a mausoleum, never to speak new words that could hurt me ever again. And that was enough to shift the specter of the past from translucent to transparent…what used to only allow light to pass through while masking the details was now completely clear, entirely visible. The thing about the past is this…it’s always present. There’s no escape from it. You can run, you can hide, but it will inevitably find you. There is, of course, a better solution, one I’d finally been brave enough to attempt. Face it. Embrace it. Remember it. Learn from it. And, most importantly, try your best to not let it fuck your life up too badly along the way as you moved further and further beyond it.

Tom and I bid Anne adieu as we dropped her off at Café du Monde, then hurried back to the hotel so we’d have enough time to change, pack, check out, and arrive at the airport by four. Our flight was scheduled to leave Louis Armstrong International at five-thirty and arrive in New York at nine-thirty, and if the gods were feeling generous we’d be settled into my apartment an hour or so later. Or, I should say, our apartment. A foreign concept as far as I was concerned, but one that made me deliriously happy. And that was something I could totally get used to.

****************************************  
The duration of our first-class flight was primarily spent sending each other naughty text messages, each one filthier than the last. Afterward there was much debate as to who started it, but I refused to confess even though I was guilty as sin. He was just sitting there, in his cargo shorts and white V-neck T-shirt, up against the window with the sun reflecting on his pretty fucking face, driving me insane.

The hollow at the base of your neck, right above your collarbones. My tongue needs to be there. Like, now. – M

Go ahead. No one will notice. We’re in the last row. – T

Hmm…is it me or did that make your nipples hard, Thomas? I can see them right through your shirt. Guess they’ll be the next stop for my tongue. – M

The first stop for MY tongue is going to be your mouth, Maude. Running it over your lips, your teeth, then thrusting it in and out over and over until your moaning alerts the passengers in front of us. –T

Back and forth we went, until the final exchange.

I’m going to work my cock into your ass, inch by inch, until I’m buried inside you. Then I’m going to slip three fingers into your pussy and fuck you with them as well, so I can feel my cock from the INSIDE through the oh-so-thin wall that gives both of us so much pleasure as I pound your ass relentlessly, my thumb massaging your clit until you want to scream…but since you can’t, I’ll be forced to cover your mouth with my hand in order to keep you quiet. – T

And just as you’re about to come, I’ll invite you to fuck my mouth. As soon as you pull out of me, I’m going to drop to my knees and suck your cock so hard you’ll see stars. I’ll sneak my index finger in my beside it at some point, get it nice and wet, then run it between your ass cheeks until I find that glorious pucker. My finger will keep moving round and round the rim as I keep licking at and sucking on your cock, loosening you up, stretching, until you’re ready…then in it goes. Then out, then in. Again and again. I’ll wait until I feel your rhythm start to falter, then I’ll press my finger down on that magical spot inside you and swallow you whole as your come shoots down my throat, hot and sticky. You’ll have bruises on your knuckles for a week from biting down on them so hard. – M

That broke him. He stood, put his hands in his pockets to hide his raging hard on as best he could, pushed past me and locked himself in the bathroom. When he returned he was smirking, and I’d thought I wouldn’t need to, but he kissed me, long and slow, and I found myself in the loo a few moments later, pants around my ankles as I attempted to rub one out so I could make it home without fucking him in the back of the car that would be waiting for us. Or on the plane. In front of everyone. My phone dinged, and I bent to pull it out of my pants pocket. He’d sent me a video he’d made during his turn, hand on his cock, jerking himself off, standing right in the same spot I was in now. That was all the inspiration I required, and then some. I deleted it as soon as I finished, then texted him to remind him to do the same. Even though his face wasn’t visible, it still wasn’t something that should be kept around. Despite the fact that I wanted to watch it a thousand more times.

As we circled LaGuardia, I began singing Frank Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York’. Quietly, I might add, until Tom joined in, then a good number of the other passengers in first class, turning it into an impromptu sing-along that grew loud enough as we reached the final chorus to warrant a shushing from the flight attendant. We disembarked, picked up our luggage, and found the driver holding a sign with GALLAGHER written on it. Tom had given the company my name in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary scrutiny, but it turned out to not make a difference as this was New York, where no one gave much of a fuck about how famous you were. I’d seen Madonna try to cut line at a bagel shop once, only to be rebuked none too gently by everyone already waiting, resulting in her taking her place at the back of the queue, laughing and saying she should have known better than to do such a thing on her home turf. There was not a single soul standing still as we followed the driver to the curb, everyone looking down and walking quickly as they sought to fulfill their own personal missions.

Forty-five minutes later we arrived at 250 Mercer Street in Greenwich Village/NoHo, a wide smile spreading across my face at the prospect of being home, growing ever wider when I turned to Tom and it hit me that for the first time since college, someone I loved was coming home with me.

He leaned over me, peering out my open window, craning his neck to see how high it went despite the fact that it was dark.

My hand found his thigh and settled there. “It’s 16 floors in some spots. Building was erected in 1888, renovated in 1979 and remained rental apartments until 1986 when it went co-op. My dad bought it in 1995, for exactly how much I don’t know. He signed it over to me for a dollar a few months later, and I didn’t pay any attention at all to the paperwork. Surprising, right? I’d have to pull the deed to find out the amount. Now it’s worth around eight hundred thousand or so, but I don’t care, because I am NEVER selling it. I’m on the 5th floor. And yes, there are elevators. Thank god.” I opened the door, stepping on my right foot gingerly. The pain was back, mainly because I was a fucking moron and not only forgot to take my ibuprofen but had packed it away in my suitcase instead of my carry on. The crutches were in the trunk, and the driver brought them around first for me, the followed with our luggage.

Tom came out on the curb side as well, stretching, arms up over his head, T-shirt riding up just enough to reveal his belly button and the start of his happy trail as he glanced around at the street signs and location. “The Village, yes?” 

“Technically it’s right on the border of Greenwich Village and NoHo. Best of both worlds and all that. Washington Square Park is right over that way…” I pointed in the correct direction, but it looked like I was pointing at air since it wasn’t visible. “You can totally see it from my window.”

Tom tipped the driver, who’d brought the luggage right to the door for us when he realized it was way too much for one person to carry. The glass door opened towards us, and out stepped Murray Goldberg, my favorite doorman. His uniform was black, with gold trim and buttons, exactly the same as it had been when I’d moved in, and, according to him, as it was when he started back in 1987. He was in his mid-sixties, not much taller than I was, with thinning white hair and gold-framed John Lennon glasses.

“Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in. If it’s isn’t Miss Maude Gallagher. You were supposed to be back for the July 4th weekend…how I worried and worried!” He chuckled as I half-embraced him, crutches tucked to my side with my elbows.

“Oh please. You are so full of shit, old man. You didn’t even notice I was gone. And besides, look what I brought back with me!” I released him and gestured to Tom. “Murray, this is Tom Hiddleston. Tom, Murray Goldberg.”

Murray glanced at Tom, then rolled his eyes at me. “So THIS is why you went AWOL.” He held his hand out to Tom, who shook it vigorously. “Nice to meet you, Tom. Welcome to 250 Mercer.”

Tom grinned. “Thank you, Murray. Pleasure to meet you as well.”

Murray looked puzzled for a moment, and I knew it had dawned on him that Tom was an actor, but he shrugged it off and poked my arm, suddenly switching to a thick Brooklyn accent. “Englishman, eh? Whatsamatta, New York guys not good enough for ya anymore?”

I snorted. “Nice. Offend him before he even has a chance to see the place.” We all laughed, and I pointed to my walking boot. “I’m injured. I don’t suppose you can dig us up a luggage dolly from somewhere?”

He shook his head at Tom. “Been back less than five minutes and she’s already a giant pain in my ass. Wait here.”

They loaded the cart while I watched, and Murray wished us a good night as we headed for the elevator. Tom wheeled it inside and I punched the 5 button quickly, hoping to avoid company. My strategy was successful, and less than a minute later the stainless steel sliders opened, my white apartment door visible from where we stood. It turned out that crutches were useful for holding elevators, but I felt completely useless as I watched Tom struggling to drag the cart up over the lip and onto the grey carpet.

I pointed to the left. “C503. That’s us, right over there.” Grabbing my messenger bag off the pile of luggage, I fished out my keys, put the correct one in the deadbolt, then pushed down on the handle. The door swung inward, and I reached in and flipped the light switch. I turned around to see Tom, his eyes wide and slightly misty. I grinned, leaned my crutches against the sideboard and threw myself at him, arms wrapping around his waist. “Welcome home, Thomas.”

****************************************

To the right of the door, behind the bathroom, was a metal staircase that led to the loft. Tom unloaded all the luggage there, then brought the cart back downstairs to Murray. I fumbled around in the sideboard drawers, looking for my spare apartment key. It was way in the back, buried under entirely too many takeout menus…all of which reminded me that I was starving. The stove clock said it was 10:55. Most of the Thai and Chinese places would be closing soon, but The Bagel Café/Ray’s Pizza was open, and they had a huge menu to choose from.

“New York, I have missed you so very much. Where else can I get breakfast delivered to my door in the middle of the night if I want? And cannolis. And cake. And…”

My musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. I opened it just a crack, peeking out and pretending to be wary. “Yes?”

Tom raised a brow and grinned.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

He feigned exasperation, arms crossed, frowning and tapping his foot.

“Oh, right. You’re that totally hot guy who followed me home from Hawaii.” I opened the door fully. “Well, come on in, I guess.”

Tom grabbed my waist, bending down to kiss my neck. “Totally hot guy wants to drag his totally hot woman to bed, but he’s suffering the effects of food deprivation and fears his performance will suffer unless calories are consumed forthwith.”

I passed him the extensive Ray’s menu, pulled my phone from my pocket and hefted myself onto one of the kitchen bar chairs, mentally noting that finding the ibuprofen should be next on my to do list. “Let me know what you want. I’m going to add my stuff to the order while you’re deciding.”

I ordered a Meat Lover’s Omelet with bacon, home fries and toast, an everything bagel with scallion cream cheese, a slice of strawberry cheesecake, a large orange juice and a large black tea with cream and sugar. Tom was still perusing the menu. I managed to be patient for a bit, but then leaned forward, putting my face between him and the paper.

He laughed. “Someone’s nearing hangry level orange.”

“Mmm, not quite yet but if you don’t make up your mind soon things may get ugly before the delivery guy gets here.”

“Well, no one wants that, do they? I’d like a large Irish Crème coffee, a cranberry scone, a Gone Bananas smoothie, a Greek salad and a deluxe cheeseburger with bacon, please.”

“Dude, your order is even weirder than mine. I’m impressed.” I entered his items and my credit card info, then pressed the submit order button. Forty minutes according to the website, which was unusually fast. I slid off the chair and stood on my left foot as I reached for the crutches. “It’ll probably be an hour before it gets here. There should be some water and soda in the fridge, though, in case you’re thirsty. I’m going to go scare up some ibuprofen so I can maybe walk upstairs at some point this evening.”

Tom shook his head. “No, stay. I’ll get it for you. Where is it?”

“In one of my suitcases. I think. All I really know is that I packed it.”

“Do you keep any here in the house?”

My mouth dropped open. “Well, shit. Yeah. The bathroom, cabinet under the sink. Wonder how long it would have taken me to come up with that? Oy. It’s the door behind you, on the right.”

He came back, shaking the bottle, then went around the corner into the kitchen, opening the stainless-steel refrigerator door and letting out a low whistle. “Soda, water, basic condiments and some whipped butter. Toss in some ancient moldy leftovers and a few bottles of beer and it would be identical to mine. Though mine’s just white. Not fancy and shiny like this one.”

He passed me a bottle of water across the counter, and I quickly swallowed two tiny red pills and stuck my tongue out at him. “It used to be much shittier, trust me. Back in 2011 everything was in such bad shape I said fuck it and decided to put the money into renovating it. Plus, I needed more storage options. For books. Want the official downstairs tour?”

“Indeed I do.”

I pointed at the kitchen. “Where you’re at…that’s the kitchen.” He smacked my hand gently and rolled his eyes. “Countertops are concrete, back splash is glass tile. Gas stove over yonder, mainly used for boiling water and reheating takeout food. Next to the fridge is a Fisher & Paykel DishDrawer. It’s a dishwasher, but it pulls out like a drawer and takes up a lot less space. We won’t talk about how much it cost. It’s embarrassing, and I didn’t really NEED it but damn, it’s really fucking cool. Don’t open it, though. I think I may have forgotten to do them before I left. After seeing my mother’s house I don’t like the cabinets as much as I used to, but at least they have stainless pulls instead of gold. Bathroom next.”

Tom rounded the corner and followed me the seven steps to the washroom. “You’ve already seen this. And you’ve looked in the cabinet under the sink. Hopefully there’s nothing too embarrassing in there, though I tend to keep most of that stuff in the loft. Floor is teeny tiny marble tiles, walls are subway tile, because, New York, and the shower is black glass tile. I love glass tile. I have no idea why, but I do. The overhead light in there is awesome…I abhor showering in low light. Can’t see shit. The fixture is a Grohe, and it’s got a rain head AND a massager. In retrospect, I would have gone with just the massager because the rain head gets water in my eyes constantly. And here we have a sink, and the excrement receptacle. Very exciting, no?”

He chuckled. “Excrement receptacle. I’m stealing that one, if you don’t mind.”

I waved my hand. “Sure, fine, why not. Now, let’s adjourn to the living area. To your left is the sideboard, where I keep all the crap I don’t have another place for. The mirror above is handy for making sure there are no boogers hanging from my nose before I leave the house AND for watching myself burn things in the kitchen. Up next are these very cool metal lockers that function as my coatroom and general storage. They all have a different combinations and I don’t know the two on the far end so please don’t turn the dials. To your right is a dining set that is not anywhere within the scope of my usual taste, but it was a gift from Anne when I first moved in and part of her parent’s estate so it remains. Recovering the seats in black leather made them more palatable. There’s a matching hutch on the wall behind it, which I use for books instead of dishes. The rug is from her, too. Sorry, am I rambling? Just let me know if you want me to shut up.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m enjoying this immensely. This…this is the place you call home. I want to know every detail, the how, the why, the significance of each and every thing and what it means to you.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, well, we’re only going to be here for three days and I did plan on leaving the house to do stuff so…anyway.” I gestured to the windows. “Those are eight feet high, the ceilings are twelve. There’s a remote on the coffee table that opens and closes the shades. Some people don’t mind parading around in the buff in front of the entire city, but I try to avoid it. Emphasis on TRY.” He laughed. “The bookshelves are custom…I designed them myself. Underneath are storage cabinets, which hold more books, my speakers, and some DVDs and CDs. The rug under the coffee table is also from Anne, and the white sofa…I have no explanation for it other than it had clean lines and metal feet. How it’s remained unscathed in light of my clumsiness is a mystery. The chaise part is pretty cool, though, and the TV’s on a swivel so I can turn it in that direction. Both pieces of art are things I found while traveling. The one by the windows was at an estate sale in Boston, and the big one is from a gallery in San Francisco.” I held my hands out to the side at shoulder level. “So, that’s it, I guess. If you turn around you’ll see the loft, and as soon as my meds kick in we can go up and unpack. Oh, wait. One more thing. Here’s your key.” I reached into my pocket, then held it out to him, allowing it to lay flat on my palm.

He lifted it slowly, the pads of his fingers brushing delicately against my hand, the connection creating a current of what felt like a thousand volts. It surged through me, and when I met his gaze he burst into tears. I wound my arms around him, crutches falling to the floor with a metallic whump, kissing each wet cheek in turn as my own eyes began streaming.

Wiping at his eyes with the back of one hand, his other arm around my waist, he smiled softly. “Wow. Sorry about that…I just…I…not even seven days ago I was certain I’d lost you forever and here we are, actually, finally in New York and you’ve welcomed me into your home…into your LIFE…and I’m just…I’m…so…so…GRATEFUL, Maude. And thankful. All that we’ve learned about each other, how much closer we’ve grown…which, honestly, I wouldn’t have believed to be possible, given how close we already were…I feel…unburdened. Lighter. Freer. I feel…ALIVE. So very much alive.” 

His mouth was on mine before I had a chance to speak, and when he did the lip thing again I lost my mind completely. One hand was up my shirt, caressing my breasts first over then under my bra, the other down my shorts, inside my underwear, two fingers abruptly thrust inside me, pumping in and out. I glanced at the stove clock as I undid his zipper and wrapped my hand around his throbbing cock. It read 11:25. At least fifteen more minutes before dinner arrived. Plenty of time.

He whimpered pitifully as I began stroking him, voice breaking when he managed to speak. “Oh…Maude…I wanted to wait and take my time but…ohhhhh, GOD…I’m afraid I’m more than a little desperate for you, my love. May I have you, please? Now?”

I walked him backward toward the coffee table, fumbled for the remote and hit the button to close the shades, then grabbed waist of his shorts and pushed them down over his hips until they fell unceremoniously to the floor. He did the same with mine, dragging my panties with them, pausing to allow me to lean on him as he lifted my right leg to pull them over the boot. Our mouths met again, mine open and waiting for his tongue. His kiss was at first gruff, then yielding, gasping as I sought to imitate the forcefulness he’d displayed when sucking on my lip, pulling his into my mouth with a ferocity I hadn’t known I possessed. I felt myself being lowered onto a surface, which I assumed was the chaise portion of the couch, but wouldn’t have cared if it was a bed of nails. 

Suddenly his weight was upon me, cock hard and leaking against my entrance. He broke the kiss to hold my head in his hands, our foreheads almost touching, gazes locked. “I love you, Maude. I will love you all of this life, and in each and every one that follows. I will love you as the world turns to ash around us. I will love you as the universe collapses into itself, and in the blackness of the eternity that awaits, I will remain, with you, at your side, holding your hand, never to let go. This love…it knows no bounds. It is forever. Two souls made one, together unto infinity. I love you. I love you.” 

He shifted his hips, pushing himself inside me, slowly, stilling when he hit bottom, and I wept against his shoulder, hands at his waist under his shirt and grasping his hips. He wrapped his arms around me, hands in my hair, his lips on my neck, kissing every spot over and over.

“I love you, Thomas. Never let me go. Please. Never let me go.”

We began moving together, all gentleness cast aside as we raced at breakneck speed to feel the completeness that resulted only when the physical and the spiritual combined. His hips slammed against mine so savagely I knew I’d wake tomorrow to bruises, and my hands moved further up and under his shirt, fingernails digging in, then raking down his back as the head of his cock nudged my cervix and I came, pleasure and pain intermingling, a chasm opening and suspending us in a single instance of time and space as I felt his cock pulsing in tempo with my walls, then erupting its liquid fire inside me, like a volcano buried deep in the ocean floor.

The only sound in the apartment was our breathing, both of us panting and gasping. Tom rose up on his elbows, conducting a visual inspection to determine if I’d incurred any damage.

“Fuck, Maude…I’m so sorry…that was positively barbarous of me…are you all right? And your ankle…I forgot about THAT altogether…”

I placed my palms on his chest. “Barbarous is a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’d go with delightfully uncivilized. Either way, it was electrifying. And I’m fine. How’s your back, though? Let me see.”

“My back? Why?” He whipped his shirt off and slipped it under me as he pulled out and turned around. Eight welts stretched from his shoulders to his waist, four of them bleeding in spots.

My hand flew to my mouth, dampening a loud gasp. “Now that there, THAT’S barbarous. You. Are. Bleeding.” 

He craned his neck to see behind him, then got up and went to look in the sideboard mirror. I got up, and hobbled over to stand next to him, clad only in my T-shirt.

“Tom…shit…I’m like…SO sorry. Yikes. I’ll go get some peroxide…”

He started at his reflection, head tilted, puzzled. “I didn’t feel that. At all.” As he turned around to face me, his hands reached for mine, grasping them. “What I DID feel was you. Us. I want you to know, Maude, I meant every word of what I said. Every word.”

“I know. Thank you. I…I…I’m not sure if I can formulate a reply that would convey my own feelings adequately…”

A kiss cut me off, his tongue forcing its way past my lips and teeth to reach mine, and when he pulled away he pointed at the couch. “You already did, my love.”

The blush began in my already flushed cheeks and spread all the way down to my breasts. My gaze shifted from his face to the floor. “Oh.”

Tom chuckled. “Suddenly modest, are we?”

I let go of his hands in order to cover my face. “Oh. My. GOD. Shut. UP.”

He roared with laughter, the sound echoing in the open space that surrounded us. I turned on my heel as quickly as my injury would allow and opened the bathroom door, looking back at him over my shoulder.

“I’m still going to get you some peroxide, in spite of the fact that you’re a complete and total asshole.”

The laughter continued as I searched the drawer, then abruptly ceased as someone knocked on the door and loudly announced ‘delivery for Gallagher’.

I took off my T-shirt and tossed it to Tom. “Here, put this on. And don’t forget your shorts. I’ll hide in here. There’s tip money in the dish on top of the sideboard.”

Figuring I might as well pee while I was in there, I giggled as I sat down on the seat. “Excrement receptacle. Damn, I’m fucking hilarious.” I could hear Tom thanking the delivery guy as I finished up and washed my hands, followed by the sound of the door closing. He was in the kitchen when I came out, removing the food from the bags and placing it on the counter, sorting it into two piles. I put my underwear back on and dug a T-shirt out of my luggage. There was no way to be sure whether it was clean or dirty, but it passed the sniff test so I deemed it wearable.

We ate at the dining table, him snatching half my bagel and a good sized chunk of my omelet. The cheesecake and the scone went in the fridge so we’d have something on hand that passed for breakfast, and as he loaded the silverware into the dishdrawer (which had been empty, thankfully) a yawn escaped him, so powerful he dropped the fork he’d been holding.

I bent to pick it up, remembering he’d been up hours before I had. It seemed a physical impossibility that the press encounter and funeral had occurred earlier that same day, and suddenly all I wanted to do was lie down with him snuggled against me. He closed the drawer and pushed the start button, and I reached for his hand.

“Come on, you. Time for sleep.”

He let go, shaking his head. “We haven’t unpacked, nor have we texted Luke and Simon to let them know we arrived safely and to find out if they have as well, and we still have to call Norman…”

I grabbed my phone from my shorts, which were still on the floor where he’d dropped them. “There. Luke and Simon texted. Where’s your phone? Let’s text Norman, too.” He passed it to me. I typed quickly.

Hey – just wanted to say thank you for reaching out, and no worries. The internet, as they say, is forever. Appreciate you noticing and providing clarity as to the source. Hope filming the rest of the season is going well. Best, Gallagher & Hiddleston

I turned the screen so Tom could read what I’d written.

He nodded. “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

I hit send, set my phone on the sideboard and turned off the downstairs lights. “Let’s go. Move that ass.”

He snorted and followed me up the stairs. It felt like it took forever with the stupid boot, and I dreaded having to pee during the night. I turned back the covers, then stood by the dresser at the bottom of the bed and removed my shirt and panties, Tom’s arms winding around my waist from behind, holding me in place so I didn’t fall over as I wrangled the underwear over the boot.

His voice rumbled in my ear. “So, this is where the magic happens…”

“Ummm…if you’re referring to solo magic, yes. Lots of it. But other than that, no. Not in a long, long time, anyway.”

His grip loosened and he stepped back, silent until I turned around.

“Maude, I’d forgotten he lived here with you…I’m…”

I raised my hand to stop him. “Shush. There’s no longer room in my heart, or my head, for anything other than what’s right in front of me. What happened can’t be changed, nor would I want it to be. Life is meant to be experienced in the moment. If you dwell on the past or focus on the future, you miss everything in between. Trust me. I know. And I’m so very, very done with missing out. Now get those clothes off.” I held out my right arm, palm up, towards the platform that held a queen size mattress. “This way to my bed, sir.”


	24. Chapter 24

Eight AM found me wide awake, sitting up in bed garbed in a tank top and undies, facing the windows whilst playing a mental game of connect-the-dots with Tom’s freckles as he snored softly. An hour ago I’d gotten up to pee and take some ibuprofen, my ankle hurting so badly I not only went down the metal steps on my ass but back UP them as well. Now I was toying with the idea of taking a shower, which was probably a really bad idea, but I swore I could smell New Orleans on my skin, along with a host of other things that belonged circling the drain, and I wanted to scrub it all away.

Tom smiled in his sleep, and I traced his lips ever-so-lightly with my index finger. His hand lifted slowly, clumsily chasing the source of irritation, first wrapping his fingers around my wrist, then pulling it towards his face. His eyes opened halfway as he kissed my open palm, other arm snaking around my back and pressing down between my shoulder blades, extending an invitation for me to lie upon his bare chest.

He mumbled something I couldn’t make out as I wrangled myself into position, then buried his hands and his face in my hair.

I spoke softly. “Didn’t quite catch that, babe.”

His voice was husky, vocal cords not yet fully functional. “Wake doing. Why’re you?”

Way to ratchet the adorable factor up to a million. I snorted, and he jumped in surprise. “Oops, sorry. I woke up at around seven because I had to pee and my ankle was killing me so I took meds while I was down there, then I came back up here but couldn’t fall back to sleep, and I was just thinking that maybe I’d go down and take a shower but that sounded like it might not be the best course of action so I figured I’d just wait here for you to wake up. Are you aware that your freckles form some rather interesting constellations? I saw a cat, a diamond, a snake…”

A hand left my hair and settled lightly over my mouth as he chuckled, cutting me off in the middle of my Tom’s Skin Galaxy dissertation. “Did you have a pot of coffee while you were down there as well?” I shook my head, his hand falling away and resting on my shoulder. “Wait…how did you manage to traverse the stairs? I’m not sure you should be walking on it if it’s causing you pain to do so…”

I tilted my head up so I could see his face. “I didn’t walk, exactly.” His left eyebrow shot up. “There was some hopping involved. And my ass on the stairs. Unavoidable, though…when nature calls, ya gotta answer.”

He sat up, pulling me with him. “I have to know…what was your plan, exactly, for taking a shower on your own?”

My index finger tapped my lips, eyes skyward, then lowering to meet his gaze as I pointed in his direction. “I was going to take the boot off.”

Tom waited for me to continue. I didn’t. His eyes closed briefly as he shook his head, trying to clear his post-sleep haze. “And then?”

I scrunched up my nose, shoulders rising. “And then nothing. That was the extent of my grandiose plan. Take the boot off.”

He kissed my forehead, laughter bubbling up from his chest. “I think you may have left out a few steps.”

“Well, technically the next step after taking the boot off would have been taking an actual step and that was the point wherein my brain screamed ‘Abandon ship! Abandon ship!’” I sighed. “My inner control freak is not coping well with my temporary status as an invalid and the lack of independent mobility that has resulted from it.”

His fingers stroked down the right side of my face and across my jaw, palm coming to rest cupping my chin as his thumb gently caressed my lips. “And how, if you don’t mind my asking, are you coping with everything else? Not trying to stir anything up, just concerned because…well, I like to think that we all have a suitcase of pain where we store the memories of what’s hurt us, and that we dip into them a bit at a time, unpacking, item by item, whenever an issue needs ironing out. Yours…yours was overstuffed and exploded as if it had been dropped off a building, its contents scattering everywhere and forcing you to clean up all of it at once. In the public eye, no less. I’m in awe of how you’ve handled everything with such strength, but I wanted to remind you that I’m here if you want to talk. About anything. At any time.”

My teeth sank into my lower lip as I placed my hand on his chest, fingers spread over his heart. “Of course I don’t mind…and I appreciate you asking. So much. How am I coping? Not sure how to answer that, other than…I’m coping. But I’ve always been able to do that. I just keep moving. I do feel a little manic, which you obviously picked up on because of your coffee comment, and I feel…raw. Exposed. Like a nerve. Aaaand now I’m quoting Bruce Banner. Nicely done, Maude. Anyway. At the same time, I also feel calm. And powerful.”

I removed my hand and sat back a bit, wanting a better view of his expression as I spoke. “I’m relatively certain that I’m done with the breakdowns. For which your suitcase analogy is an apt description, by the way. All of these things that we’ve locked away to maintain some sense of control over our lives burst forth from their confinement and we descend into outright chaos. The mind is overwhelmed by the instantaneous influx of data, and naked, often irrational, emotions take over while it works to analyze what’s been inputted. By the time the mind reaches the end of that particular string of operational code, the data has been compiled into digestible chunks that it’s able to process, at which point the emotions recede, reset and order resumes.”

He smiled tenderly. “An exceptional depiction of how a breakdown works…classic order out of chaos. That’s precisely how it feels.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I think, though, the order only happens if your brain cooperates and structures the data. If it doesn’t…you’re stuck in a terrible fucking feedback loop. I’m counting my blessings, let me assure you.” He reached out for my hands, clasping them gently in his own, their warmth reinforcing my gratefulness. “And I’m aware that things may trigger me, without warning. When I witness a mother being verbally abusive to her child, hear a man raising his voice when speaking to a female companion, while interacting with acutely intoxicated people of either gender…” Tom’s eyes were cast downward, and I squeezed his hands. “But it will be MY problem to remedy. Eliminating the behaviors that resulted from my experiences…THAT will take time to resolve, I’m sure. The way I run away when someone hurts me, my tendency to bury pain instead of dealing with it, how I’ve always erected a wall when someone starts to get too close because I’m afraid they’ll break me, cutting people out of my life when they attempt to persuade me to face things I don’t wish to, not wanting to accept help because I’m afraid to depend on anyone other than myself…and god knows what else. But we’re all works in progress, I suppose. And we live as such, for better or for worse. As to the publicity aspect…I’d be going against everything I believe in if I bitched about it. And I don’t want to, because…it’s totally okay. It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to get the truth out there myself. Though a week ago I would have said it was my worst nightmare, everyone finding out about my past, but once you knew and were okay with it, any fucks I had left to give went bye-bye-o.”

He grinned, and I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “So, how are you coping with all of this, Thomas? I’ve dumped more shit on you in the past week than a Triceratops herd during an especially bountiful late Cretaceous growing season, and you already had enough shit of your own to shovel…”

Chortling, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “Have I mentioned how much I relish your sense of humor?” His voice grew quieter, deeper. “I’m doing just fine, largely thanks to you. And please don’t feel as if you’ve dumped anything on me, Maude. I wanted to be here for you, and I want nothing more than to always be here for you. I can only hope I’ve done a decent job of it…”

“Thomas William Hiddleston, you’ve done an unimaginably phenomenal job of it. Having you to lean on, figuratively AND literally, during all this has been…a…a…oh for fuck’s sake, brain, out with it…damn. I want to say godsend but that’s not really my thing…hmm.” I paused, leaning back so I could look at him, going over what he’d said last night in my head and struggling to find my own words, knowing they could never compare. “The universe has bestowed upon me the most precious of treasures in you, my love. Thank you for recognizing my soul as the other half of your own when you encountered it. Thank you for crashing through my defenses. Thank you for your kindness, your caring, your support, for loving me just as I am, and, most of all, thank you for bringing me to life.”

He whispered my name, eyes glimmering with tears, and I watched as one spilled over and down his cheek. I wiped it away, then grabbed him by the shoulders, meeting his gaze, my voice hushed.

“I just remembered that there’s cheesecake in the fridge.”

First a smirk, then a titter, and finally a howl of laughter from him echoed off the loft walls.

I shook him. “It’s not funny. I need it. NEED. IT.”

His laughter ceased as he leaned in to plant a quick kiss on my lips. “Thank you for bringing me to life as well, Maude. I love you.”

“I love you too. But you better eat your scone in a big fucking hurry because it looked just as delish as the cheesecake…”

He got up, pulled on his dirty shorts and ran down the steps.

I yelled after him as I pulled on my own. “Not fair, Hiddleston. NOT AT ALL FAIR. And I’m warning you, touch that cheesecake and you’re in for a fucking world of hurt, mister. I MEAN it.”

***************************************  
Tom had opened the shades prior to our New York style stand-up breakfast and was currently making his way back to the windows as he savored the final bites of his scone. I remained at the kitchen counter, watching him as he stared wistfully out at the cityscape. And the park, which I assumed was the main draw. His left leg lifted off the ground several inches, returned to the floor, then he repeated the gesture with his right one.

I walked across the room to him, boot thunking on the hardwood. No sneaking up on anyone for me for a while, apparently. Not that I was good at sneaking in any way, shape or form to begin with. I set my empty dish on the coffee table and stood next to him, the sunlight on my face and the familiar view from home filling me with a sense of harmony and halcyon I hadn’t felt in a very long time. His arm wound round my waist, and I allowed my head to loll on his shoulder.

“This is some view, Maude. Washington Square Park is beautiful. City parks have always fascinated me…nature’s haven within a fortress of concrete, brick and steel.”

My head lifted as I poked him in the ribs. “And you’re dying to run around it a million times, aren’t you?”

He turned to me, mouth dropped open and brows furrowed.

I patted his stomach. “You were, like, miming running or something over here while I was finishing my cheesecake. Listen to your body and get on out there, Thomas. It’s a small park, though, so you may want to expand outward into the concrete fortress. Just be very careful of the traffic…New York drivers are notoriously assholic.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Not one single bit.”

He frowned slightly. “You wanted a shower, though. If I go you’ll have to wait, and…”

I held up my hand, palm towards him. “It can wait. Maybe when you get back we can shower…together.”

A growl released itself from deep in his chest as his hand slipped down into my shorts and panties, grabbed hold of my right ass cheek and pulled it sideways.

“Oh ho ho, Hiddleston. Keep that up and you are going NOWHERE.” He laughed and pulled harder. “Fucker. Listen, before you go, will you please bring the bags upstairs? I’ll unpack while you’re gone, and then I have some mundane bullshit to take care of…answering emails, paying off the mortgage, getting the estate sale going…damn, I’m starting to wish I could run with you. And I normally only run when chased. Or towards food. Anyway. I’m going to put all my stuff away and get laundry ready…there’s a full service here in the building. Do you want me to do anything with yours? If you’d prefer that I don’t nose around in your stuff I totally understand…”

“Maude. My cock’s been in your ass. We’re living together. You can nose around in whatever you want of mine.”

“Okay. That’s cool. I feel the same way…wait, how was that first bit relevant to this conversation?”

A devilish grin spread across his face, and he leaned down and in, nose inches from mine, voice thick with desire. “It isn’t. I was just thinking about how amazing you feel and it…slipped out.” He let go of my ass, spun around and made for the steps.

“You bastard. I can’t even CATCH you.”

All the bags were in the loft before I even reached the stairs, and by the time I’d climbed them he’d changed into his running gear. “Shall I pick up breakfast on my way back?”

“The scone wasn’t breakfast?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Not quite. What’s the name of the place we ordered from last night?”

“The Bagel Café. And Ray’s Pizza. Single storefront, double the yum. They’re on the corner of St Mark’s and 3rd Ave, less than a half mile from here.”

He strode to where I was standing at the top of the stairs, a ratty black V-neck that looked like it had been around since college hanging loosely on him, framing the sculpted lines of his torso as he moved. Upon closer inspection I noticed some tearing at the seams as well as several holes. On anyone else it would have made me cringe, but it actually seemed to make him even more attractive.

His eyes travelled downward after he noticed my intense examination, evaluating his attire. He smiled fondly as he ran a hand over the thin fabric, then looked back at me. “This, Maude, is my lucky shirt. Well, truthfully, I have several, but this is the luckiest of them all. Wearing it gives me motivation to run faster, to be stronger, and reminds me how blessed I am. I had it on the day Ken called me to tell me I’d been cast as Loki, a day that changed my life forever. And, as fate would have it, I was wearing it the morning I jogged on the beach in Kaua’i and saw you on your balcony. Another day that changed my life forever.”

My head tilted to the side. “Dude…I…I can’t even with you.” I took two steps forward and clasped my hands behind his neck, staring up into his eyes and losing myself in the ever-changing shades of blue. “Just when I think I’ve heard what certainly HAS to have been the most mind-blowing thing you’ll ever say, you prove me wrong.”

He pulled me to him and rubbed my lower back. “You flatter me, Maude.”

“Yeah, no. It’s FACT.”

Sighing, he mumbled into my neck. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to leave. But I’m sure you miss running. I miss yoga. Maybe I’ll do some gentle poses while you’re gone…it’s really about the breathing, and I can still do that with no issues. For now.” I giggled. “Get to it, you, before I change my mind and hang on your leg like a little kid who doesn’t want his mother to leave him at school.”

His lips found mine, tongue probing and seeking entrance, which I eagerly permitted. He ran it underneath mine, along my teeth, nipping at my lips until I broke the kiss and released him.  
He smiled. “Right. Run. Breakfast. What would you like me to order for you?”

“Mmm…Challah French toast with bacon sounds pretty fucking epic. And some tea.”

He nodded once in acknowledgement. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour and a half, maybe two. Sometimes it’s difficult for me to stop once I get going.”

My right eyebrow shot up. “Oh, I know. It’s one of my very favorite things about you.”

He rolled his eyes at me, smirking, then jogged down the steps and opened the door. “Okay, here I go. I’ll see you shortly. I love you.”

“Call if you need anything. You have your key?”

“I shall. And yes, I have it.”

“Cool. I love you too. Please be very careful whenever you’re crossing…always look, never trust the signals.”

“Will do.”

“See you later, Hiddleston.”

He waved, and walked out, closing the door behind him.

***************************************  
Being by myself again was incredibly strange at first, but as soon I got down to the business of unpacking it felt…fine. Normal. Good, even. I stood and peered into the living area from the loft, surveying the kingdom that used to be mine alone but was now ruled jointly. For a moment I thought maybe I’d dreamt it all, that I’d been here the entire time lost in a fantasy. I pinched my left arm in an attempt to convince myself that yes, it all HAD happened and this was my life now. 

“Ow, fuck! Why to people DO that?” I briskly rubbed the spot I’d squeezed. “The only message that sends is that reality is PAINFUL. Not my truth, for a change. Imagine.” 

By the time I was finished, I’d rearranged nearly the entire contents of my bathroom and bedroom drawers as well as my hanging garments. There was plenty of space for Tom’s toiletries, clothing, and his shoes…even the dreaded formerly-white Vans. Of course, it was completely unnecessary to put any of our things away since we were leaving for London on Sunday, but I wanted him to feel completely at home, which was pretty much impossible when you were living out of a fucking suitcase. It also provided a visible indication that our lives had indeed merged, which filled me with all sorts of happy-happy joy-joy feels to the extent that I wanted to puke from the sweetness. Every time he crossed my mind, I could feel the smile begin to spread across my face, and I wondered if he was thinking of me as he ran, panting breathlessly, sweat glistening on his skin.

“God DAMN. Fucker’s not even here and he’s setting my lady garden on fire.”

I tossed all the dirty laundry into a basket for Tom to carry down later, then went over to the loft’s work area. The desk was really just a large piece of wood that had been stained and finished, resting on top of two large two-drawer filing cabinets, one of which had been modified to contain my tower, server and a cooling fan. Ventilation was essential as the systems were always up and running, just in case I needed to stream in when I was on the road…usually when I forgot to copy something super fucking important to my external storage drive. The sight of my 27” Acer monitor made me squeal with delight…my laptop screen was a 15”, which was well suited for portability but sucked for designing. I pulled out the chair, sat my ass down, shook the mouse and logged in. The Windows 8 start screen greeted me with an array of purple swirls, and I clicked the Desktop tile, then the Chrome icon. Over the next thirty minutes I answered all my pressing email messages, arranged a wire transfer to pay off the NOLA house, contacted the company the real estate agent had recommended to clean the premises and scheduled the estate sale for the weekend of August 21st. The cleaning would be completed by the end of next week, which would give the sale planner plenty of time to properly research and appraise the value of the contents of the home. All photographs, whether they were loose, framed, or in an album were to be set aside, with Barty shipping them to me once I was settled in London. He would also be responsible for collecting the sale proceeds, distributing them to Anna Beth, and sending me the required documents to transfer title on the house.

I leaned back in the chair, stretching my arms above my head. “Way to get shit done, Maude. Help yourself to a gold fucking STAR. Now let’s see what the internets are saying about you. Perhaps you should grab a beverage first, though.”

The books I’d bought at Talk Story were sitting with Tom’s on the dresser, and I schlepped mine downstairs with me, setting them on the dining table to await their proper bookshelf placement. While hemming and hawing in front of the open fridge for a few minutes about whether to have a Coke or some water, I had an epiphany.

“Wait…do I NEED to take the boot off to take a shower? I don’t. I TOTALLY DON’T. I have garbage bags. I have duct tape. I can shower the rest of me NOW, and then wash everything the boot covers when Tom gets BACK. How did this not occur to me already? I mean, I fucking did it that way YESTERDAY. I swear, being in love has tanked my fucking IQ. Totally unacceptable.” As I said the words ‘in love’ the big stupid smile plastered itself on my face yet again.

I sat on the sofa to waterproof the boot, using so much duct tape I knew I’d need scissors to get it off for sure. After grabbing my iPod from my messenger bag, I popped it into its docking station by the TV. The entire apartment was wired for sound, much to the chagrin of my neighbors, I’d imagine. No one had every complained, and I tried to keep the music at a reasonable volume, but sometimes I just couldn’t help myself. Like today. I hit shuffle and shimmied my way to the bathroom as best I could, James Brown belting out ‘get on up, stay on the scene, get on up, like a sex machine’.

As the near-scalding water washed over me, I felt cleansed, though I’d yet to use any soap. The shower was often the place where I did my best thinking, where I felt most relaxed, comfortable, and comforted. There’s just a certain something about the warmth of the water on your naked skin…an intimate heat, similar to that of your lover resting blissfully atop you after orgasm, or floating peacefully in the womb, counting the hours until it’s time to enter the world that anxiously awaits your presence.

I shampooed, soaped, scrubbed, and shaved, reveling in the fact that in all the years I’d lived here I’d never once run out of hot water. Though tempted to make showering an all-day affair, my fingers had gotten pruny, which meant it was time to get the fuck out and move the fuck on.

Wrapping an oversize towel around me, I grabbed a pair of scissors out of a sideboard drawer and cut away the bags and tape, grinning from ear to ear.  
“Check that shit out…cleanliness attained, no injuries sustained. WOO!”

Upstairs in my dressing area was a full-length mirror, and I stopped for a peek after I finished drying off, a remix of Deadmau5’s ‘Sofi Needs a Ladder’ cranking, which made long to guest DJ somewhere for a night. The bruises on my hips weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be, both of them around the size of a fifty-cent piece. Overall, I looked…different, somehow? I turned to the side, then back around to face my reflection, one hand on my stomach.

“Nah, that’s not possible.” When I’d left for Kaua’i Mr. Digital Scale had informed me that my weight was 164 pounds, which was what right in line with it had been for several years. Stepping on the scale was part of my morning routine, always done when I was naked and fresh out of the shower for continuity. After losing a huge amount of weight, I had come to the conclusion that it was much easier to shed five pounds than it was to dump fifty, so I set a maximum weight for myself of 170. Occasionally I’d hit that number after I’d been away, at which point I’d cut back on calories until I got back down to my ‘normal’. The walking boot made it a pain in the ass, but I managed to balance well enough to get a rough idea of where I was at. The display read 153.

“What the FUCK? Eleven pounds in, like, THREE WEEKS? Is it possible that sex burns that many calories?!”

I stepped off, pausing to evaluate what my diet had been like of late. There had been a few missed meals, but when I had eaten it was with no regard to caloric intake. That, in conjunction with the inordinate amount of stress I’d been under AND sexual activity so frequent that it would make bunnies blush seemed to create the ideal conditions my body required for weight loss. Who knew? The stress, I hoped, would be lessened significantly going forward, but the sex…THAT I never wanted to end.

Shaking my head in an attempt to reclaim some focus, I dug up a pair of super comfy cotton knee-length shorts and a fresh tank top to put on and set them on the bed. There were two underwear drawers in the dressing area – one for everyday no-one-is-going-to-see-these-rips-be-damned, the other for laid-laid-let’s-get-laid lingerie. Frowning at the circa 2010 selection available in drawer number two, I made a mental note AGAIN to order some new stuff. I chose something I’d never worn before, a lacy purple satin push-up bra with matching panties. Once fully clothed, I sat back down at the desk, ready to take on whatever the web had to dish out.

First, I checked the comments on the Tumblr post of the video Tom and I had made. There was no way I was reading them all, but at a quick glance the majority were positive and that was good enough for me. When I Googled Tom’s name I was stunned to see that the item garnering the most attention was the video of us kissing in front of the funeral home. There were stills, close ups, GIF sets and more, all with comments along the lines of ‘Where can I find someone who’ll kiss me like that?’, ‘What is he doing to her LIP?’ and ‘Look at that tongue!’

I put my head in my hands, elbows on the desk. “My GOD, his MOTHER is totally going to see these, if she hasn’t already. SO not going to win me any points.” 

After I’d regained my composure, I searched my own name, and was completely taken aback by what I found. Astounded. Flabbergasted, even. Ninety percent of the results on the first ten pages led to tweets and posts that revolved around the content of my impromptu press conference, and the outpouring of support touched my heart in way I hadn’t thought possible. Complete strangers saying they were proud of me for being so open and honest, admiring my bravery, thanking me for drawing attention to issues that no one even wanted to talk about in private, never mind in front of god knew how many people. But the thing that really got me was the way the posters and commenters were interacting with each other…sharing their own stories, offering to help, or just to listen. There were discussions about surviving loss, recovery tips for children of parents with NPD, lists of domestic abuse indicators and resource information for those who were looking for a way out, rehabilitation material for alcoholics, and so much more. To know my words were the spark that caused this particular fire to burn so brightly was almost enough to give my pain a purpose, and I wanted to at least say THANK YOU.

Knowing that 140 characters wasn’t going to do the trick, I wrote down my thoughts and posted them as an html document on my website, just as I had when I announced I’d taken the job with Prosper.

Hey there, you amazing people!

This wasn’t something I’d planned on addressing, but after reading your posts and comments I just had to say thank you…so, here I am.  
I must admit that when I typed my name into the search box this morning, I felt a certain degree of trepidation regarding what results would be returned when I hit enter. To find your words of support…to see you discussing amongst yourselves the issues that prevented me from living a full life for too many years, to see you sharing your own stories, and most importantly, supporting EACH OTHER…was one of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever experienced. No hyperbole. Seriously.

When I spoke to the press yesterday, I was just following the advice I’ve always given my clients – be TRUTHFUL, because as Shakespeare so aptly put it in the Merchant of Venice, ‘at the length truth will out’, no matter whether it’s ten minutes or twenty years down the line. It never even crossed my mind that speaking freely about my personal life and background might allow someone else to feel comfortable enough to reveal their own struggles or encourage someone to help another who’s dealing with a similar situation. That it appears to have done exactly that…well, I just can’t quite find the right words to properly express how much it means to me.

And though it doesn’t feel as if it’s nearly enough to repay the kindness you’ve shown me, THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart. Know that I’m proud of YOU, and YOUR bravery, YOUR openness, and YOUR honesty. I am so, so thankful, and grateful, for all the positive energy you’ve sent my way. May it return to you times a million.

Love,  
Maude

I logged into Twitter and drafted a quick post to accompany the link to my site page.

Thank you, internets. Just…thank you.

After posting it, I stared blankly at the screen as strains of Richie Havens performing ‘Freedom’ at Woodstock thrummed in the background, slowly permeating my thoughts. A song so simple, yet so purposeful and substantial, capturing just how heavy a burden the weight of loneliness is to bear and reminding us how to set ourselves…well, FREE. I leaned back in the chair, eyes on the ceiling, singing softly at first, then louder as the second verse began, continuing as I rose and walked across the loft and down the stairs as it neared its end. As I reached the main floor, my crooning abruptly ceased, replaced with a bloodcurdling scream as I glimpsed a figure standing in my kitchen, visible to me only as a reflection in the sideboard mirror.

As the figure rounded the corner and walked towards me my brain finally registered ‘oh, right, TOM’. That’s me, Maude the total fucking dumbass who listens to her music at Spinal Tap eleven and thus doesn’t hear her boyfriend opening and closing the door.

His hair was a sweaty mess, and as he drew nearer I caught his scent, faintly locker room-ish but deliciously masculine. He stopped short, reaching a hand out and resting it on my upper arm instead of embracing me.

“Please believe me when I say it wasn’t my intent to scare you half to death by coming in unannounced.” His expression was serious, but his eyes betrayed the grin he was working so hard to suppress. “Though the possibility exists that I may have remained quiet in an attempt to listen to you finish your song.”

I shook my head rapidly and took a step forward, winding my arms around him. “Totally my fault, dude. If I wasn’t torturing the neighbors with my tunes I would have heard the door.”

He leaned away from me, hands on my shoulders and pushing me back gently. “Maude, I positively reek, you don’t have…”

I buried my face in his neck, inhaling deeply then letting my tongue snake out and lick a stripe from his collarbone up to his jaw. “I love the way you smell, Thomas. And the way you taste.”

He groaned as I let go and walked into the living room to pause the iPod. “Woman, I missed you.”

“And I missed you.” Breakfast was spread out on the kitchen counter, still in its warming containers. I pointed at them. “Can that wait a few minutes? I want to show you something upstairs.” His left eyebrow rose. “No, not that. Though maybe that, after…for fuck’s sake, Thomas, stop TEMPTING ME.”

After viewing the pages I’d left open for him to see, he read my thank you note. I’d let him have the chair, and he pulled me down and onto his lap once he’d finished it.

“Maude, you know, I hate to admit it, and you know it already, but I’ve become so…so…jaded, I suppose, in regard to this sort of thing. The internet, I mean, and social media specifically. Even though I’ve begun to participate in it again it still appears in my mind as a giant, bullying troll the size of the one at the top of Jack’s beanstalk. Larger, perhaps. How could I have forgotten the other side, the positive side? The amazing things human beings can achieve when they come together? That it permits people to share their stories, their sadness, and find solace in one another? What the fuck happened to me?”

Same thing that had happened to me, that’s what. “Life, babe. The bullshit diverts our attention from who we are and tries to change what we believe in. But if we’re persistent, we can shift the track and find our way back.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “Poet and didn’t know it.” I giggled, and his expression grew contemplative. “Maude, posting that was a very gracious thing to do, and what you wrote was exceedingly authentic…not sure if I’ve said it, but I too am very proud of you, your bravery, and how forthright you were yesterday. Your truth turned out to be the genesis of something very special.”

“A purpose for my pain.”

“Oh, I like that.” His stomach rumbled.

I patted his belly. “Feeding time.”

His brows rose. “Are we at the zoo?”

I sniffed in the general vicinity of his armpit. “Smells a bit like the monkey exhibit, I suppose.”

He began to tickle me furiously while ‘oo oo’ and ‘ahh ahh ahh’ing like an overgrown chimp.

I slapped at his hands but he was entirely too fast for my non-caffeinated ass to catch. “What role are you playing in Skull Island again? Are you sure it’s not KONG?” He guffawed as I tried to wriggle free, but to no avail. “Thomas. I’m an invalid. Mercy. MERCY!”

“No. Mercy.” He paused suddenly, face in my still-damp hair. “You took a shower?”

“Indeed I did. My superior intellect kicked in and I realized I could utilize your garbage bag waterproofing strategy and wait to check out what’s under the boot when you got back. In retrospect, I guess, it was risky business…soap and plastic and water and tiles. Oy.”

His fingers toyed with one of my curls as he kissed my forehead. “Yes, it was. I’m glad you made out all right.” He fondled his chin, lips pursed. “Though I was very much looking forward to showering with you. Despite the fact that I had not a clue as to how we were going to manage it without the boot.”

I smirked, moving his hand to the side so I could plant a kiss on those sublime lips. “Plenty of garbage bags left, and lots of duct tape, you know.”

He snickered. “That sounds heinous when taken out of context.”

I shrugged and clambered off his lap. “Fuck context. Let’s breakfast.”

“I’d rather fuck…”

I put my hands over my ears as I walked across the loft to the stairs. “So sorry.

Can’t hear you. Breakfast now.”  
***************************************  
As I moved my books from the dining table to the coffee table so we’d have someplace to sit and eat, I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to show Tom one of my favorite places in the entire city.

I stood, hand on my hip. “Hey Tom?”

He looked up from the open silverware drawer, knives and spoons already in his left hand. “Yes, Maude?” As I walked over to join him, he pointed at me, grinning. “You’re getting quite good at that whole walking thing.”

“And check it out, I can use my hands at the same time!” I flipped him off times two. “Anyway. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to pack all that stuff back up?”

He cocked his head to the left, eyeing me as if I’d lost my marbles.

I patted his arm in reassurance. “Don’t worry, we’re still going to eat it. Just not…here. Cool?”

“As you wish.” He began putting everything back in the bags they’d come in, and I pulled a recyclable shopping tote out from under the counter and loaded the plates, glasses and silverware into it. He followed when I beckoned, grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

Falling into step with me, his brow furrowed. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

I nodded and pushed the elevator up button. “We’re going on an adventure. You like adventures, don’t you?”

“Most certainly.” He smirked and kissed my cheek, hands otherwise occupied by the bags of food.

I stepped into the elevator and began whistling ‘Ride of the Valkyries’, him trailing after as I hit the uppermost floor button. He remained silent as we rose, the elevator finally coming to rest with a jounce, doors sliding open to reveal a stairwell. We ascended the steps, side by side, until we reached a grey metal door. I pushed in the bar to open it, and Tom’s delighted gasp at what lay before us made smile so wide it almost hurt.

The thirty-five by fifteen feet rooftop deck provided a stunning view of the surrounding cityscape, as well as the sky above. Several wrought iron and glass tables were scattered about for common use, and the largest of the set offered an umbrella for those who preferred to sit in the shade. Evenings, especially on the weekend, often drew a crowd, but during the weekdays I typically had the place to myself, though on occasion I’d encounter a sunbather or two who’d usually give up after fifteen minutes in the oppressive New York summer heat. Today there was not a soul in sight.

Tom gawked at the view, doing a 360, bags in tow. “Maude, this is fucking incredible. It’s common space, I’m assuming?”

I nodded and began walking to one of the smaller tables in the middle of the deck. “Yep. But it’s almost always empty during the weekdays.” Placing the tote on one of the chairs, I began unpacking and setting the table. Tom put his bags on a chair as well, waiting for me to complete my task before dolling out breakfast. He’d ordered a Greek omelette, and my Challah French toast smelled like heaven. I poured our orange juices into the glasses and placed our hot beverages next to them, wondering what the other two to-go containers he was holding contained. “Whatcha got there, Thomas?”

His nose crinkled as he opened the first one. “Not sure if you’ll like this…it’s a fresh fruit salad.”

I reached over and grabbed a strawberry slice as he carefully poured it onto a plate. “I’m not averse to fruit. What’s in the other one?”

His head shook from side to side rapidly as he opened the top a fraction of an inch, then closed it abruptly. “Hmm, I’m not sure if you’ll like this either. A bit too rich, perhaps…”

I grabbed for it and he raised it over his head and out of my reach. “Hiddleston, I smell chocolate. Give it here.” He shook his head again and I growled. “Give. It.”

Laughing, he lowered the box and opened it. “Madame, may I present one delectable chocolate-filled croissant for your feasting pleasure?”

I breathed in the deliciousness as I peered at the flaky, crusty treats. “Um, don’t you mean croissants?” I pointed. “I’m counting two.”

“Yes, there are two. One’s for me.”

My eyes rolled as I shook my head. “Um, no. I think not. MINE.”

He closed the box and set it back on a chair, then came around to push mine in as I sat down. “You’ll be entirely too full to eat both of them after that French toast.”

I looked up at him. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

He snorted as he walked around the table and sat opposite me, reaching across to take my hand in his. “Maude, thank you for bringing me up here. The city, the sky, the sunshine…you…all divine. You, most of all.”

I brought our hands up to my mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Thanks for adventuring with me. And stop trying to distract me from the croissants.”

We ate quickly, chatting about his run and my decision to donate the estate sale proceeds to Anna Beth. When I expressed that I felt I was slighting the Metropolitan Center for Women and Children by changing my mind, he immediately volunteered to make an anonymous donation to them, matching the funds raised from the estate sale. I wept at his generosity, he wept at mine, and we split one of the croissants to lighten the mood, saving the other for later in spite of my chanting ‘Us vs. Food’ repeatedly in an attempt to get him to finish it off with me.

Pushing back from the table a ways, I slid down so I could rest my head on the back of the chair, upturned face basking in the sunshine as the few clouds scudded by. Inhaling deeply, I raised my head and met Tom’s gaze.

“This, Thomas. This is my New York. Sitting high above it all amongst the towers, the world at my feet. And that SMELL…diesel fuel mixed with a thousand other things like food, perfume, garbage and…humanity. Eight million people, living their lives right here, right now. Daily access to things that people journey thousands of miles to see just one single time. And it really never sleeps. When it’s three AM and you’re wide awake and feeling completely alone in the world, all you need to do is open a window to realize you’re…not. Car horns, music, voices singing and yelling, airbrakes, and subways thundering beneath it all.”

He bit his lip. “You’re going to miss living here.”

I sat up, shaking my head as I reached for his hand. “I’m probably going to see it more NOW than I have over the past ten years, Tom. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve really LIVED here. And it’s just a place. Filled with inanimate objects. Closest thing I’ve had to a home, sure. But…I don’t think I ever knew what home was. Now I do. You’re home.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, his voice hushed as his thumb rubbed my wrist. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now let’s clean this up and get you in the shower, see what’s under this god-forsaken boot and figure out what we’re going to do to burn off all these calories so we’re ready for our super dinner at the Carnegie Deli. I wanna SPEND, son.”

His gaze fell to the table, thumb still stroking. I gave him a few moments, but he remained silent.

I let go, stood and walked to his side, leaning my head down so I could peek up at him. “Tom? What’s wrong?”

He raised his head, smiling sheepishly. “Well…about dinner…”

“Do you not want to go out? That’s totally cool with me…”

He bit his lip again. “No, no, it’s not that…I…well, we actually have reservations elsewhere for tonight.”

I crossed my arms. “We do?”

Nodding, he squeezed my knee. “Yes. Eight PM. At Daniel. In the Skybox. I made them when we were still at the beach house, before the bet and…” His eyes met mine, concern clearly visible in them. “You’re not disappointed, are you?”

My eyes rolled skyward as I chortled and kissed the top of his head. “Oh, Tom, I am SO VERY DISAPPOINTED that you got us into Daniel. And booked the fucking SKYBOX. That’s like, sixteen hundred dollars or something for the eight course tasting menu, isn’t it? Fuck, I was totally joking about the spend thing. Wow. Okay. Wait…they don’t usually open the Skybox to the public on the weekend. How the hell did you manage to pull this off?”

“Simon worked with Daniel Boulud at some point. He suggested it when I mentioned wanting to take you somewhere special in New York and that you enjoyed watching shows like Chopped and Restaurant Impossible…”

I’d said one time, when we were discussing Simon having been a chef prior to meeting Luke, that behind the scenes kitchen stuff on TV fascinated me, and he’d remembered. The Skybox was a private windowed room suspended over the main floor of the main restaurant, with booth seating that held a maximum of four people. Overlooking the entire kitchen, it allowed guests it to watch all the action while they dined. Hands extended, I prompted him to get out of his chair. As soon as he stood I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest as his hand cradled my head, voice muffled as I spoke. “This is abosofuckingloutely the coolest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’ve always wanted to go, but first off I’m wicked cheap, and, secondly…okay, fine. It’s just cheapness. And maybe it’s a little bit of not having the right person around to be trapped in a box with for several hours.” He chuckled. “Thank you, Thomas. You are so kind, and thoughtful…and my god, what the ever-loving fuck am I going to WEAR?”

I released him and frantically began cleaning up our dishes and garbage. He joined in, grinning. “Surely you must have something acceptable hanging in your closet?”

“I fucking hope so, dude. But I have my doubts. I can’t even remember the last time I wore something even remotely formal that wasn’t work related.”

Everything fit in the tote, and Tom insisted upon carrying it downstairs. As soon as we got back into the apartment I headed up to the loft to rifle through my inadequate selection of evening wear while Tom loaded the dishwasher.

“Black lacy thing…no. What is this blue nightmare…are those sequins? Yikes, I don’t even recall buying that one. Black floor length satin fishtail with long sleeves? Too Morticia Adams.” Nothing seemed right, and I was so absorbed in the task I didn’t notice that Tom was in the loft until he stood in the dressing area doorway and cleared his throat.

“Find anything?”

I rubbed my temples. “Not yet. Hope is waning, my friend. WANING.”

He walked behind me, reached up and pulled out a white rectangular box, about six inches by six inches, from the back of the topmost closet shelf, which I couldn’t reach without a stepstool. “I’d planned on giving this to you over dinner, but perhaps it will help you choose if you open it now?” His arm reached out to pass it to me.

I lifted the lid and nearly burst into tears. Inside was a cuff bracelet of hammered sterling silver, with an oblong piece of black tourmaline, unfinished, set in a sterling silver rectangle. It was a near-perfect match to the necklace my father had given me.

My mouth opened, closed, then opened again as I spoke, trying to hold back tears. “Thomas. My god. This is…I…it’s so beautiful and it matches my necklace and…where did you FIND it?”

He was rocking back and forth on his heels. “I located an artist online and had it commissioned, actually. I know it’s not exact as I relayed the necklace design from memory, but…”

All of the blood rushed out of my head, my knees went weak and I found myself leaning against the closet frame for support. “You had it MADE? For ME?”

He strode towards me quickly, arms wrapping around my waist and helping to hold me up, his voice soft. “Yes. For you. Do you like it?”

“It’s…I…I love it. So much. SO much, Tom. You’re…I…thank you.” As my head cleared I couldn’t help but ask for the details. “When? How?”

“The day after we met. I had it shipped to the beach house, addressed to Luke, then hid it in my luggage until today, when I put it where I figured you wouldn’t bother to look or be able to reach. That morning…I could see the sadness in your eyes when you told me your father had given it to you, and I wasn’t certain that he’d passed away but my heart told me that was the case. I wanted to give you something that I hoped would bring you joy when you wore it, I suppose, a connection to him as well as me. It’s so odd, it was like a little voice whispered in my ear and planted the idea in my head, and now that I know…everything…I wonder…”

The tears began flowing, slow, gentle, my mind filled with too many thoughts to describe. “Tom. TOM. What…I…well, fuck, I…just…just…thank you. It will always bring me joy, and remind me of you and how amazing you are and…” I pointed to each of us in turn. “…THIS is and wow, I haven’t really given you shit yet and I’m starting to feel pretty fucking outgunned if you dig what I’m saying.” 

“You’ve given me you, and that’s…everything.” He kissed me, tasting of eggs and chocolate and coffee, then let me go and grabbed a bag from outside the dressing area. It was light pink, with black handles and a black bow and I knew exactly where it was from before I read the words written in black script. Agent Provocateur. His eyes displayed both embarrassment and arousal, and that combined with the blush that was creeping up his neck made me want to rip his clothes off with my teeth.

He set the bag on top of the dresser, hands shaking just the tiniest bit. “I’d say this is for you, but in all honesty it’s more so for me and I hope you aren’t offended that I’d even think that way, or that I haven’t crossed a line by being so bold as to buy you lingerie simply because I wanted to see you in it and my god when I say it out loud I feel like I’m sexually objectifying you…”

“Tom, that’s kinda the entire POINT of lingerie, isn’t it? It’s intimate apparel. Whether the woman chooses it for herself, or her partner chooses it for her…the intent is sexual, be it for self or mutual satisfaction. That’s just my opinion, of course. I have zero problem with you ‘objectifying’ me. In fact, I’m fucking thrilled that you found something you’d like me to wear because you wanted to see me in it. And then fuck me senseless, hopefully. I mean, seriously, what better compliment is there? Other than how loudly you’ll scream my name when you come.” I waved my hands in a gimme gesture. “Let’s see it.”

His hand dipped into the bag, then hesitated. “I have to tell you that your lusciously full breasts did limit my selection, as for some ungodly reason they don’t stock things above a D cup, and even those were scarce. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable so…” He pulled out a see-through black lace halter top that appeared to be stretchy, with wire only on the bottom, slightly curved. “The bottoms were easier…those they have readily available in your size.” They came next, a pair of tiny bikini panties that buttoned closed across the entire length at the middle, including over the crotch area, and an overskirt that matched the halter top.

I fondled the fabric. “Damn. These are gorgeous. And yeah, I never shop at Agent because all I can buy are bottoms. Nice find with the halter top. I want to ask how much they were but that’s tacky and I kinda have an idea already so I’ll just say thank you and that I’ll make it worth your while.” I fanned myself. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

He grinned wolfishly. “Hmm, I do believe you turned a very similar phrase when I was standing outside your hotel room that first night, just a short while before you fucked ME senseless. And oh, yes, it’s decidedly hot. It may get hotter.” He reached back into the bag and retrieved what appeared to be a red fishing net until he shook it out and held it up by the top straps. It was, in actuality, a red satin and mesh playsuit with no breast coverage whatsoever, the mesh holes about an inch in size, diamond shaped, with a silver two inch diameter ring that connected to the bottom, to a band that ran around the ribcage area, and to a halter strap that was meant to rest between the breasts. There was an identical ring on the back as well. Just as I was about to ask where the top was, he held out his other hand, revealing two shiny red discs approximately three inches in diameter and just the right size to cover…my hand slapped over my mouth as I attempted to contain myself, but to no avail.

“Holy fucking shit, are those PASTIES?”

He set the ensemble down and held up his hands defensively. “Maude, I know, it might seem a bit…”

I raised a brow. “Kinky?”

His hands flew up to cover his face, voice muffled. “I was thinking more along the lines of risqué. God, I’m sorry…I just pictured it on you and…please don’t feel pressured to wear it if it will make you uncomfortable…” Eyes peeked out from between his fingers. “Good christ, it IS, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Oh yeah. It’s kinky. And I LOVE it.”

His hands fell to his sides, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Totally. Did they include body glue?”

His jaw dropped as he nodded, mouth wide open.

I closed it for him. “I only know about that from having clients involved in the fashion industry. Boob glue is essential for the prevention of wardrobe malfunctions. That and duct tape. Which is NOT going anywhere near my nipples.” I wiggled my hips suggestively. “I’m going to wear them to dinner, and I’m NOT showing them to you until after dinner. You can sit across from me all evening, knowing exactly what’s under my clothes but not having seen it ON me yet. This is going to be SUPER fun.” He groaned, and I felt compelled to ask how he’d pulled this particular rabbit out of his collective hat. “So, do tell, when did you manage to sneak in a visit to Agent Provocateur? Was it the one here on Mercer?”

“Yes, it was. I passed it once on the first leg of my run, then passed it AGAIN, at which point my libido got the best of me and decided my run was over. I turned round at the end of the block and went back to the store.”

I roared with laughter. “You went in there dressed like that, and all sweaty? I’m surprised no one called 911 on you.”

He laughed as well. “No law enforcement officers were alerted, to the best of my knowledge. But there was judging. And whispering. Oddly enough, it ceased when I asked for assistance.”

“Ah, the inherent magic of the British accent/Hiddleston smile combo. Did they start throwing panties at you?”

“No. But there were three saleswomen helping me at once. Is that normal?”  
I slapped his arm. “For you, probably. Me, I could wave wads of cash and still be invisible.” It occurred to me that I might have a very limited window during which to obtain something to wear over my newly acquired unmentionables. “What the hell time is it, do you know?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea.” His eyes squinted nearly shut as he tried to read the alarm clock across the room. “I believe it’s twelve thirty-something.

“Holy shit.” I waved him out of the closet. “Move along, baby. I desperately need to phone some folks about a dress.“


	25. Chapter 25

A Yellow cab whisked me the two miles uptown to the Hey Gorgeous! showroom, located on the twentieth floor of 270 West 38th Street. Tom remained back at the apartment, plowing through the rest of the Vampire Lestat, Queen of the Damned at the ready for when he’d finished. I’d decided that I wanted to keep whatever dress I wound up choosing under wraps as well, at least until the moment we were heading out the door to dinner.

I rolled my eyes as I approached the door of suite 2000. “Way to turn a dinner date into the high school prom you never went to, Maude.” In all honesty, that was the only explanation I could come up with for going this route…and it applied some serious pressure to pick something so amazing that Mr. Verbosity would be stunned into complete and total silence upon seeing me in it.

I pressed the intercom button, imagining that the office gal would immediately have an inordinate amount of sympathy for the stylist I’d be working with when she saw me on the video monitor, still in my sloppy long shorts, a GeNiUS t-shirt and a single black Birkenstock.

“Hi there. Maude Gallagher for Veronica Escobar, please.”

Fiddling with my messenger bag using my left hand as the door clicked open, I pushed it inward with my right, then closed it behind me. The statuesque redhead smiled, then advised me to follow her to the front of the loft space and make myself comfortable on either the creamy off-white velvet couch or one of the leather-cushioned armless chairs, all artfully arranged in front of the enormous windows and next to racks upon racks of garments. I opted for the couch, sitting sideways so I could both look out at the city and put my right leg up. As I waited, my phone chirped. It was Simon. I tapped the answer button and waited for the onslaught.

“MAUDE GALLAGHER. I knew you had balls, but I did not know how enormous they were. You got some ‘splainin’ to do, missy.” Good lord, I’d missed his voice. And I missed his face.

“Skype me, you bastard.”

He connected instantly, his gorgeous eyes full of warmth and mischief. “First, I want to say that I am very, very proud of you. Second…why the fuck have you not CALLED ME? I was so WORRIED, even though you seemed okay when you talked to the press. Are you okay?” I was still formulating an answer when he interrupted me. “That smooch at the funeral…you are SUCH a trollop.”

I laughed. “Like you wouldn’t have done the same fucking thing. And yes, I’m okay.” His head tilted, nearly reaching his shoulder, mouth twisted to one side, doubting me. “Really. How did you feel, after you got everything out in the open with Luke?”

“Free.”

Nodding once, I pointed at the screen. “DING.”

“DONG…the witch is dead?”

“Exactly. Didn’t we do this before?” We dissolved into giggles, then my mood sobered as I imagined things from his perspective. “I’m sorry for not calling. Apparently I suck at the friend thing.”

His eyes rolled skyward as he let loose an exasperated sigh. “You really do. But I love you anyway.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

“You’re welcome, you selfish bitch.”

More laughter, followed by silence. He cleared his throat. “Truly, I AM proud of you. And if you ever want to talk about…anything…I’m all ears.”

“Thanks. And if you have questions, I’m cool with answering them. Not, like, right now, but…soon. Like when I get to London. Speaking of which, what’s happening with you guys? Is it insanely busy?”

A sheepish smile appeared. “Weelll, since you mentioned it…there is ONE thing happening…” He sat for a solid thirty seconds without making so much as a peep.

“Sharing is caring, Simon.”

His smile grew wide, beaming at me from across the Atlantic Ocean. “I hope you’re free for New Year’s Eve, because…LUKE AND I SET A DATE.”

“Get the fuck OUT. You’re getting married on New Year’s EVE?!”

“Yes, yes, YES. Right at the stroke of midnight. That’s the plan anyway. And I don’t care if you have something going on already…FUCKING CANCEL IT, because you HAVE to be free that night. Because I want you to be my maid of honor.”

He’d rendered me speechless, and the only sound I could initially muster was a delighted gasp. “Simon. Me? Really?”

“No, I was just teasing.” He rolled his eyes again. “OF COURSE you. Sister from another mister. Kindred spirit. Don’t make me have to ask some tosser I used to work with. I beg you.” He paused briefly. “So…will you do it?”

I nodded. “On one condition.”

His brow furrowed. “Um, it’s supposed to be an HONOR. You don’t get to attach CONDITIONS.”

Grinning, I held up my left hand, palm towards him. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it. Just…please, for the love of god, DO NOT make me wear anything FRILLY. Or…GIRLY. I…I…CANNOT.”

“So no lacy pink hoop skirt with a wide-brim sun hat and umbrella?”

“If you want me to rip it off and light it on fire in front of all your guests, sure. Why not?”

A phone rang shrilly in the background. “Shit. Gotta get that, I’m the only one left in the office and we’re technically open until seven today.” He winked at me. “Have fun at Daniel tonight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I had two text notifications, both of them messages from Tom.

Missing you here. And fantasizing about undressing you later. :P - T

Just finished Lestat. Anne called. She spoke to Guillermo. He called as well…and he’s on board. – T

“Lord have mercy.”

The words had no sooner left my mouth when Veronica appeared at the other end of the couch, smirking at me, arms crossed.

“Honey, I’m the one who should be asking the Lord for mercy because what you are wearing…ay dios mio. I don’t get paid enough to solve problems of this caliber.”

I flipped her off. “Whatever. Call the fashion police on me.”

Her hands moved to her ample hips as she laughed heartily. “I AM the fashion police. Or have you forgotten?”

I hadn’t. We’d meet back in 2007 when she was hitting the runways as a plus-size model for an agency who’d contracted me to teach their clients the importance of being body-image positive on social media. In spite of my glamlessness, we’d been drawn to each other right from the start as a result of our commonalties and had spent at least one day together during New York Fashion week each year since, attending whatever show she thought I’d enjoy. Or whatever show she thought would make me roll my eyes endlessly, which she’d enjoy. I counted her among the small group of people I termed ‘quasi-friends’, which to me were the inhabitants of the grey area between friends (which I had always avoided having like the plague until very recently) and acquaintances (of which I had entirely too many). 

Standing only 5’9”, Veronica had been told time and time again that not only was she too large at a size sixteen to model, she was too short to be taken seriously even if she whittled herself down to a size two. After paying her dues for ten years doing behind the scenes administrative work, she caught the attention of a fellow plus-size model who fell in love with her look and convinced her own agency to take Veronica on. In 2011 she met and married husband Jeremiah Villanova, got pregnant shortly thereafter and retired permanently from modeling after spending a year home with her daughter. Hey Gorgeous! offered her a part time position as a stylist in 2013, and she’d wondered ever since why she’d never thought of pursuing it previously. It was what she’d been born to do, that was for fucking sure. The woman looked incredible no matter what she was doing, even if it was going for a walk to get coffee in her Bronx neighborhood, and she could make anyone look just as amazing if given the opportunity. Today she was garbed in a black satin knee-length wrap dress that tied with an oversize bow, her bountiful cleavage beautifully showcased by the V-neckline. I noticed she’d cut her dark brown curly hair…it used to hang halfway down her back, but now it rested on her shoulders, side-parted so that the right half framed her face and the left side was held back by a maroon floral clip. Her makeup was perfection, smoky brown and glittering pink shadow that brought out her ridiculously dark brown eyes, lipstick and blush the same tone as her hair clip. Open-toe floral print heels, hoop earrings and a bracelet that I hoped was comprised of faux diamonds otherwise I was totally in the wrong business completed her ensemble.

Rising slowly from the couch, I stood before her in all my non-glory, arms outstretched in front of me, hands dangling at the wrist. “I have NOT forgotten. Go ahead. Slap the cuffs on. I deserve to be punished.”

She chuckled as she stepped in to embrace me, then moved back, holding my hands and looking me up and down. Her parents had emigrated from Puerto Rico in the seventies to settle in the Bronx, and her vernacular and accent was a mish-mosh of her heritage as well as her locale. “You get skinner every time I see you, yet I stay fat. This injustice will not stand. Tell me, how do you do it? I know you EAT and you don’t EXERCISE…did you sell your soul to El Diablo or something? Or maybe it’s all the sex with your hot new MAN, eh? You have very long dry spells, Maude my dear, but they seem to end with quite a…bang.”

We’d spoken briefly about Tom on the phone as she’d seen the kissing video which had, it seemed, been viewed by everyone on the planet. Sighing heavily, I tilted my head to the side and tried to appear downtrodden. “It’s the sex for sure. Morning, noon, night and anywhere in between. He just won’t stop and I don’t know how much more I can take, Veronica. Pure misery, I tell you. Pure. Misery.”

She let go of my hands and pinched both my cheeks. “So much misery that you’ve had to beg me for help to find a sexy dress for dinner out…what did you say on the phone? You wanted to make him salivate so much that he’d dehydrate?”

Feigning horror, I shook my head wildly and pointed to myself. “Me? I would never say something like that. You must be thinking of another client.” I took the phone from my bag and pulled up the image I’d found on Agent Provocateur’s website of the lingerie Tom had purchased…which, not surprisingly, actually had a name. The Bubbles Playsuit. I turned the screen toward Veronica, who squealed and covered her mouth instantly afterward when Statuesque Redhead, office phone up to her ear, shot us a scornful look. She studied the picture, and I could see it in her eyes the moment something she thought was perfect came to mind. Passing the phone back to me, she set off like a rocket through the racks as I dropped the phone back in my bag, slung it over my shoulder and followed.

When she disappeared from my view I called out. “Um, Veronica? Maybe slow down and wait for Woman in Walking Boot?”

Her head poked out from behind a sea of garments, followed by a disembodied hand that waved me forward. “The dressing rooms are straight ahead. I’ll meet you in there.”

I chose the one on the left and snickered as I saw myself reflected in mirrored panels that lined all but one wall. “I’m too sexy for my shirt SHIRT, too sexy for my SHIRT, so sexy it HURRRRTTSSS…”

Veronica harrumphed as she closed the door behind her. “You ARE too sexy for that shirt, honey. Why you continue to walk around dressed like a college boy on his way to an eight AM class after an all-night bender I will never know. I’ve seen you in your professional clothes, and you have decent taste, which is a huge compliment coming from these lips, you know. Why not make an effort every day?”

My brow furrowed, and I tugged at my T-shirt. “Dude. Putting this on required effort. I had to open the drawer, move some shit around to find it and…” I looked up and saw something vast and red in her arms. “What the fuck is THAT?”

She lifted it up by its hanger. “This is YOUR DRESS. And don’t even think about arguing with me. Strip out of everything but your undies and I’ll help you put it on.” I blanched, frantically trying to remember if I’d seen any markings on my breasts this morning. Mistaking panic for modesty, she tsk tsked me. “I’ve seen plenty of boobies, you know. I even have a pair of my very own. And you need to try it on without the brassiere because I’m assuming you’re wearing the pasties like in the picture?”

I buried my face in my hands, shook my head, sighed and began to remove my clothing. “I used to like you, you know. But now you’re demanding to see my tits and you brought me that RED dress…my opinion has, like, CHANGED.”

Her hand rested on her hip again. “What’s wrong with red? You’re wearing red lingerie, yes?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different because one, it was a gift and two, it’s just a LITTLE color…but the dress…all that red yardage…I can’t imagine it’s going to do me any favors. Don’t you have it in black or something?”

“Maude. Fear not the color. The dress is going to look fabulous. It’s an Anna Scholz, crepe jersey, and the halter style will keep your unmentionables hidden just right…”

Wiggling out of my bra, I rolled my eyes, then held my arms above my head. “Yeah, yeah. Get over here and dress me already. It’s fucking chilly in here and my nipples are expressing their displeasure.”

She gathered the fabric starting from them hem, bunched it up in a roll, then slipped it over my arms and head, smiling. “You can step into this one, but I figure this way will be easier for you. Now tuck your boobs into the cups and I’ll zip you.” When she finished she turned me around to face the mirrors, chucking softly. “Look at you, honey. Mr. Hiddleston is never going to make it through dinner. In fact, neither of you may even make it out the door to GO to dinner.”

I angled my head first to one side, then the other, staring at myself in wonder. The keyhole halter top had just enough support built in above the waist banding to keep my breasts from sagging pitifully, and the color was…gorgeous. It made my skin appear creamy white as opposed to pasty, and brought out the reddish tones in my hair as well as the faint amber flecks within my irises. Turning to one side so I could see what it did for my posterior, I was again pleasantly surprised. It hung perfectly, hugging my curves but not clinging too tightly. A series of pleats had thrown me off when I viewed it on the hanger, but they were actually quite flattering, if not downright handy in the bust area…perhaps preventing the pasties from showing through the thin fabric. The to-the-thigh leg slit gave it an extra dose of sexy, and I couldn’t help but do my best Angelina Jolie-Pitt red carpet pose.

When I met Veronica’s eyes in the mirror, she was smirking. “And it’s on the side without the boot, too. What a happy coincidence!” She stood next to me and pointed at the hemline. “I know it’s long, and that would usually be solvable with heels but since you can’t wear them we’ll have to have it altered. And before you say anything, I can have it done in plenty of time. How about I come over with it around six-thirty? I’ll do your hair and makeup too if you want. Which of course you want, don’t you?”

I raised my hand to give her a high five. “Oh, I want. If it winds up looking half as good as this dress does…ay dios mio.” She laughed. “Let me text Tom to let him know. Pass me my phone, please? It’s in my bag. And you may as well grab my wallet, too. I’m just going to give you my credit card and you can charge whatever on it because holy shit you are SO FUCKING GOOD.”

She waved dismissively as she handed me the phone. “The dress is four-fifty. I’m only charging you for that, and the shoes I’m going to run out for as soon as I pin that hem. And, in case you’re interested, the dress DOES come in black. I don’t have a twelve in stock, though, but I can drop it off when it…”

I stopped typing momentarily to interrupt her. “SOLD. You’ll have to ship it, though, and I’ll have to get back to you as to where because I don’t know Tom’s address in London. And there is no way I’m not paying you for your time. How much do you usually charge per hour?”

There was no reply, and I paused again to look up. Her arms were crossed, right brow raised, foot tapping. “Maude, are you moving to London with that adorable man?”

Biting my lip, I let her query sink in before I spoke. “Well, that’s where we’re headed next, and that’s home base for both him and the new job, so I guess I’m going to have to go with…yes.” I shrugged as the corners of my mouth turned up in a smile, then pointed at her. “But I’m NOT selling my apartment or anything because this is my favorite city on the planet and we’ll be back here whenever we’re in the states. Now stop trying to change the subject and let me PAY YOU.”

She held up her hands, palms toward me. “Fine. You win. But I don’t want your money. How about when I’m done you let me take some photos for my Instagram? And name drop, perhaps?”

“Deal. I’m going to tweet it from my account with all your info, too. And whenever you’re ready to strike out on your own, I’ll do your website. Gratis.”

“Beautiful. Now stay still, if that’s possible. The hem needs to be perfectly straight.”

I finished my text as she pinned the fabric, kneeling at my feet in her own dress, heels cast aside and sitting akimbo on the floor behind her.

Sorry it took me so long to reply. I can’t think about Lestat right now because I’m in public and doing so would cause me to make noises no one should hear but you, ‘k? Dress obtained, needs hemming. Veronica volunteered to take care of it, and she’ll drop it off at around six-thirty. Also said she’d do my hair and makeup. Cool with you if she comes over? – M

He responded immediately.

Fine with me. Why is it that I’m finding you having yourself done up terribly amusing? – T

Because I hate that shit. And you’re an ass. :P – M

Sounds about right. I’ll see you soon? – T

Yep. Just have to put my clothes back on and I’m outta here. – M

Oohhh…be a dear and send me a pic first, won’t you? – T

Sure, why not? – M

I angled my phone, took a shot of the pile of my clothes strewn about on the floor and sent it.

Not quite what I expected, but I suppose a man has to take what he can get, eh? :P – T

Here’s one for you. - T

He sent me a photo of his right hand.

Tom. Please. NO PORN. – M

My hand is porn? – T

I know where it’s been and what it’s capable of doing. IS PORN. – M

Hmm, is this what you’re referring to? – T

He sent me a five second video of him miming finger-fucking me. As I groaned my hips wiggled of their own accord, which prompted Veronica to order me to stop texting or else she’d stick me with a pin.

Take it easy with that thing…I don’t want it all tuckered out when I’m ready to use it later. Have to go. Veronica has threatened me with bodily injury if I don’t stay still. Love you. – M

Heh. I shall. And I love you too, my Maude. Come on home. XOXO - T

Veronica finished, carefully removed the dress, said she’d see me later and was off like a shot again, leaving me to my own devices. I put my clothes back on, waved to Statuesque Redhead as I passed her by, then walked to the elevator. After exiting the building I hailed a cab, directing the driver to 250 Mercer, still shaking my head in disbelief at Tom’s text. Come on home. Three words strung together in a way I was pretty sure I’d never heard from someone before. Three words that were absofuckingloutley wonderful, coming from him. I took my phone out of my pocket, snapped a picture of a sign for Washington Square Park at a stop light a few blocks up from the apartment and sent it to him.

Almost there, Thomas. Almost home. XOXO - M

****************************************

Veronica arrived at exactly six thirty, just as Tom was attempting to buckle me back into the walking boot as I sat on the kitchen stool that he’d dragged into the bathroom prior to removing it twenty minutes or so ago. My ankle was very badly bruised along the outer side of my foot, swollen to the size or an orange, and with the boot off the pain was wicked despite the ibuprofen I’d gobbled down as soon as I’d arrived home. He used the shower massager on its gentlest setting to wet it down, soaped me up carefully, then rinsed it all off as quickly as possible. Watching him dry it helped me forget about the pain, though…softly patting me with the towel, gingerly rubbing my toes and trying his best to keep me from pulling away and hurting myself more as it tickled the bottom of my foot.

I was grabbing the sides of the stool seat with both hands and trying not to screech when she knocked, one buckle down and three to go, and as I tried to slide off Tom held me in place.

“Ah ah ah, you stay here. I’ll get it.”

He was gone before I could protest, and I heard the deadbolt click and the door creak as it opened. I smirked as I pictured Veronica’s face at seeing him dressed in navy blue gym shorts and a white T-shirt, then frowned as I considered the fact that he could dress like a college boy and still look totally put together. And ridiculously attractive.

“Hello, Veronica. I’m Tom. Lovely to meet you…come on in and make yourself at home. Here, I’ll get those for you. Maude’s…”

I yelled out to her, speaking over him. “Maude is in the bathroom with her walking boot three quarters unfastened so she can’t come see you right now but please feel free to drop in for a visit at any time.” I heard them both laugh, followed by her greeting Tom.

“So very nice to meet you too, Tom. Thank you for bringing in all of my bags. Such a gentleman…a rarity nowadays.” Her face poked around the doorjamb at me and she mouthed the words ‘so pretty’ before speaking aloud. “Where should I set things up? I’ll get myself organized while you guys finish up in here.”

I shrugged and glanced at Tom, who’d appeared suddenly at Veronica’s side. “You choose. And remember you aren’t allowed to SEE. Up or down?”

He grinned as he walked forward and settled in front of me, lifting my leg back up and resting the boot on his thigh. “I have very little faith in my ability to not peek, so the loft is probably best. Maybe even in the closet?” One of the buckles snapped into place and I inhaled sharply through my nose as Tom reached up to rub my knee. “Sorry, love. Two more. You okay?”

Exhaling as I nodded, I rested my hand on top of his briefly. “Yep. Thanks.” My eyes turned to Veronica. “The closet’s perfect, actually.” Her nearly-black eyebrows rose. “It’s a BIG closet, Veronica. Room for a chair, counters to put stuff on…”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like. I’ll meet you up there, okay?”

Tom left me again to carry all her equipment up the stairs, then returned to fasten the remaining buckles and help me off the stool, the pain all but gone when I put my weight on my right foot. We walked up to the loft together, hand in hand, and he sat me on the bed, instructing me to close my eyes while he gathered up what he’d planned on wearing to dinner and went back down to the main floor. Veronica set up shop in the closet and called me in when she was ready to begin.

She pointed her index finger in my direction. “First thing you need to do is get out of those…clothes…and into your…playsuit.” I was pretty sure I heard Tom drop something down in the bathroom as he prepared to shower for the second time today. Third if you counted how drenched he’d gotten while washing my leg.

I shook my head. “Nope. Because I have an idea…why don’t you do a before and after thing? Take a picture of me like this, and another when you’re done. It’ll be much more impactful for viewers if they have a comparison.”

Her phone was out of her purse before I finished. “Maude, I LOVE IT. Yes! Come out into the loft.”

I posed, one hand on my hip, the other behind my head, elbow up and out to the side. Returning to the closet, I stripped naked and grabbed the playsuit off the counter. Leaning my ass against the drawers for balance, I managed to wiggle into it and get the straps where they belonged but they were twisted where I couldn’t quite reach.

“Um, Veronica? Looks like you’re going to get to see my tits twice in one day.”

She straightened the straps out, adjusted the fit, and handed me a jar of Vaseline and body glue. “Here, use my glue for the pasties. The kind they hand out in the store is crap. And don’t forget to smear some of the jelly on your nipples before you apply the glue to your areolas. BEFORE. Trust me on this.”

Just thinking about peeling something off my nipples made my asshole pucker, so I followed her directions to the letter and minutes later…pasties. “M’kay, I’m done. Dress me.”

She whistled when she saw me. “Honey, you look so good I think I might even want to sleep with you. And you know I’m all about the D.”

We both laughed, and as she began to unzip the garment bag I caught my reflection out of the corner of my eye. As I spun to face the mirror, I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw. I looked…totally fucking hot. Sure, my boobs weren’t super perky, and there were some faint stretch marks here and there from having been so heavy, but my body at this particular moment in time looked pretty damn good. Better than when I’d met Norman, even. And my face…so different. Less hard. Almost glowing. I grinned, eyes traveling downward, and the grin disappeared when I spotted the bruises on my hips. I ran my fingers over them. “Shit.”

Veronica appeared behind me, dress in hand, chuckling. “That right there means you need some more meat on those bones, chickie.” Using the overhead method again, she wrangled it into place, had me take care of the boobage, then zipped me up. Shoes were next, and she’d chosen a beautiful pair of red Franco Sarto flats for me. The toe was pointed, top open, with a cord that crossed over the foot and wound around the back to tie in a bow. There was also a heel strap, which I thought was awesome as I was forever stepping out of any slip-ons I owned and I already had enough problems fucking walking. I stood still while she evaluated the hem length, nodding to herself in congratulations at the preciseness of her measurements.

Next she wheeled the computer chair into the closet for me to sit on and set to work on my hair, which she insisted I leave down. I was brushed, moussed, teased, spritzed and god knows what else because I had long since closed my eyes in defeat and just let her do her thing. When I tried to turn to look in the mirror, I was firmly rebuked and told I had to wait until my makeup was finished before I saw myself again.

A flurry of movement followed…foundation was applied, then dark grey matte and shiny grey shadows, eyeliner, and mascara. She chose a deep red for my lips, the same tone as the dress but much darker. I didn’t ask, but she happily explained that she decided to not use any blush because she was of the opinion that I’d be providing that all on my own tonight. She’d seen a photo of the bracelet Tom had given me and found a pair of clip-on earrings that coordinated with it as well as the dress…silver, rather geometric with an overall rectangular tiered formation made up of elongated triangular bars separated by small rounded silver beads.

She stood back to inspect her work, removed the protective cape she’d velcroed over the dress, and commanded me to rise. The room was silent as she walked around me, head tilting from one side to the other, finally stopping in front of me again to speak.

“You’re perfect. I’m going down and I’ll send your man up.” A wink followed by a sly smile. “Yell when it’s safe for me to come take some pictures.”

I spun around to gawk at myself in the mirror yet again and found my mind totally blown by what I witnessed therein. Though I’d happily agreed to let her do my hair and makeup at the showroom, once I’d returned home I’d begun to question my decision. The last thing I wanted was to look like someone ELSE, and I was afraid she’d use her own style preferences on me. Not the case. Not at all. What she’d done was taken the very essence of me, cranked it up a notch, added just the right amount of goth (which she had no idea I’d been into back in the day) and glamour while leaving enough of ‘natural’ Maude so I still looked like…me. A nervous cough from Tom broke through my self-admiration h.

Rotating very slowly, my eyes scanned the door opening, fully expecting him to be behind me. Nope.

“Dude, where are you?”

“By the bed.”

I paused, then realized I should probably leave the closet at some point. “Oh, right. Grand entrance and all that. Here I come.” Swallowing hard, I forced my feet to move, stunned at how nervous I felt. Just as I was about to walk out into the room, I remembered the bracelet. “Hold on. Forgot something.” I backed up, grabbed it off the counter and slipped it on my left wrist. “Okay. Really coming out this time.”

One. Two. Three. Four steps and there I was, out of the closet, so to speak, watching Tom’s face across the room as he looked me up and down. I both saw and heard him inhale, his jaw dropping open followed by the bottom half jerking off center slightly as it slammed shut, eyes first widening, then closing as he slowly sank down onto the bed.

I bit my lip and leaned forward, craning my neck in his direction, debating whether or not to say something. His chin rested on his chest, hands on his knees. I took a step, and the thud of the walking boot caused him to look up at me, a beatific smile on his face, eyes on fire, full of affection and desire.

His smile grew wider as he stood back up, arms out, palms toward the ceiling. “You, Maude, are the living embodiment of Aphrodite…my very own goddess of love, beauty, and…pleasure.”

Granted, it lasted for only a few moments, but technically I HAD rendered him speechless. Good enough for me. I snickered. “Don’t forget about…fertility, Thomas.” He blushed profusely, smile turning sheepish as he strode towards me.

Taking my elbows in his hands once he reached me, he angled his head down, eyes locked on mine, voice hushed. “Seeing you heavily pregnant with our child is the only thing I can imagine that would be a more beautiful sight than what’s before me right now.”

My eyes rolled, then squeezed shut as I tried to compose myself. Grabbing his lapels, I opened my eyes, blinked several times, then blurted out the only thing my brain could conjure up. “Jesus fucking Christ tap-dancing on a fucking saltine cracker. THOMAS.”

His hands found my waist as he leaned in to rest his forehead against mine, the right one sliding up my side, slowly, stopping just below my left breast. “I know, now’s not anywhere near to being the right time, but…” He cupped it gently, thumb grazing over where my nipple should have been, then jumped as if he’d been tasered. “You’re…good god…you…you’re wearing them. And you aren’t wearing a bra. I am never, ever going to make it through dinner.“ His head shook back and forth wildly.

“HA! Welcome to my world, Mr. Hiddleston.” He began to pull the fabric around the keyhole opening towards himself, bending downward. I grabbed his hand with both of mine. “Um, Thomas? Whatcha’ doin’?”

Head still down, he raised his eyes to meet mine, a devilish grin upon his lips, instantly reminding me of Loki’s initial appearance in the Avengers. “Me? Nothing, really. Just…admiring the quality of this fabric.”

His other hand began to tickle my armpit, prompting me to release him so I could defend myself. He pulled the fabric out as far as it would go, his hair tickling my chest as he peeked inside. “Unf. Maude.” I felt his tongue run along the inner curve of my breast. “Scratch what I said previously. I’m never, ever going to make it out the fucking door…”

I yelled at the top of my lungs as he growled against my flesh. “Oh Veronica, it’s picture time!”

He pulled away as her heels clicked across the hardwood flooring, whispering in my ear. “Fine. I’ll just fuck you in the car instead.”

“Nuh-uh.” He narrowed his eyes at me playfully. “I believe I should advise you that there may be a spectacular reward in store if you can somehow manage to behave yourself until we get home.” They widened as I palmed him through his shimmery light grey dress pants, snorting at his gasp. “So, seeing me in red makes you want to knock me up. Duly noted and filed away for future reference.”

He ground against my hand, taking a step back as the change in tone of Veronica’s heels announced that she was on the stairs. “Everything you wear makes me want to knock you up. And everything you…don’t, as well.”

After smoothing the lapels of his light grey matching jacket, I grabbed his silver tie and tugged lightly. “You look fanfuckingtastic this evening as well, my love.” Under the suit he wore a crisp, white button down dress shirt, black belt and black patent leather shoes. He hadn’t shaved, and the scruff begged to be caressed. By my inner thighs.

Veronica put her hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, Tom, how did I do, do you think?”

“Maude is beautiful in any incarnation, but this one is especially…devastating.” He embraced her quickly, then let go, smiling. “You’re exceptional at what you do, Veronica. I know it’s challenging to maintain a client’s personality, but you’ve captured hers perfectly.”

She pinched his cheek. “Thank you so much, honey. And I have to say you do a very good job styling yourself. That’s a gorgeous suit, and it coordinates perfectly with Maude’s dress.”

His smile turned into a huge grin. “Thank you, Veronica. Since I had no idea as to what color she’d be wearing, I figured grey couldn’t miss. Good to know I did alright.” He pulled his phone from the pocket of his trousers. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to take a few photos of us together?”

“It would be my pleasure. Do your thing and smile pretty, my lovelies!”

After shooting us, Tom sat at my desk, typing away, while I posed for the ‘after’ pic. Veronica decided to use one that closest resembled my ‘before’, and I asked her to send me a link when she posted it so I could tweet it. After packing her equipment up with the speed of a whirling dervish, Tom carried it all downstairs for her and we said our goodbyes. As soon as the door closed behind her he handed me his phone, a Tumblr draft post open on the screen.

Hello all,

We’re off to dinner here in one of the greatest cities in the world…New York.

A pic of both of us followed, then more text.

And I have to say… I’ve never been so happy to lose a bet in all my life.

Though I’d been planning this evening for a while, I refrained from letting Maude in on things until only a few hours ago. We’d both like to thank Veronica Escobar not only for finding something for her to wear on such ridiculously short notice, but for coming to us at home and being kind enough to take care of hair and makeup as well. She’s an amazingly talented stylist, and you can find her at the Hey Gorgeous! showroom here in the city.

Another pic, this one of just me alone that I hadn’t even realized he’d taken. It was from after my posing for Veronica, while she was gathering her gear…I was facing the desk, hands on my hips, leg out through the slit, staring off into space, left corner of my mouth turned up in a slight smile.

I am indeed a lucky, lucky man.

I swiped to find the camera app, zoomed in and captured his face just before he tilted his head sideways in confusion, adding my own message after I inserted it into the post.

Maude here, providing you with an EXTREME TOM CLOSE UP. You’re all SO very welcome.

Feeling pretty lucky myself…and we have to go, like, now because…I. AM. STARVING.

Tom snatched the phone back and began typing, then passed it back to me again for review.

Tom again. It appears we have a situation on our hands…Hangry Maude should be avoided at all costs, I assure you.

But before we go, we’d also like to thank all of you for the outpouring of love and support over the past few days. It means more than words can ever convey. Truly.

Much Love,  
Tom & Maude

“Post it, baby.” I glanced at the stove clock. “Shit, it’s 7:29. We need to hustle or we’re going to be so fucking late.” Grabbing my bag, I realized it didn’t really match anything other than the walking boot. And the stone in my bracelet. With no time to poke around and pull out what I’d need and ask Tom to find room for it in his pockets, I said fuck it, slung it over my shoulder and reached for my keys. Next to them was a tube of lipstick, the shade Veronica had used on me, with a note that said ‘In case you need to freshen up at some point. Have a wonderful time.’ I tossed it into the maw with the rest of my crap and off we went, Tom locking the deadbolt behind us.

****************************************  
The driver was amazing, using routes I never would have considered and getting us there at five of eight. Tom opened my door, extending a hand to help me out and up. Upon seeing the entrance, we turned to look at each other, both wearing our ‘holy shit look at THIS place’ expressions. The stone façade was highlighted by a cloth and wrought-iron awning, its spikes topped with fleur-de-lis. The letters D-A-N-I-E-L were individually applied to the iron-framed rectangle lights that ran along the awning’s bottom, on the sides as well as the front, and the recessed brass and glass revolving doors were prefaced by a topiary-lined walkway that glimmered in the ambient spotlights.

Once inside and acquainted with the host, we passed through the stately dining room, full of guests enjoying their meals, then were led behind an enormous wall of wine bottles and into the kitchen, chefs and waitstaff carefully navigating their way around us.

I tugged on Tom’s arm and whispered in his ear. “We are in the KITCHEN.”

He chuckled softly and whispered back. “Your deductive skills are very impressive.”

As I elbowed him, the host gestured to a metal staircase located next to a rack of glasses. It was short, but very steep. Tom met my gaze, brows raised, and I nodded to indicate that I’d be fine. Nothing was going to keep me out of that fucking Skybox, even if I had to climb the steps like a monkey, using my arms on the railing to drag myself along. Our host went up first, and I followed with Tom behind me, holding up my dress so I wouldn’t trip. NOT to watch my ass wiggle as I climbed, he assured me in a loud whisper from below.

The view of the kitchen was surreal. Everything was visible…the entire line prepping plates, the sauté stations with cooks doing things with pans I’d never attempt without the fire department on scene, the pickup area with waiters and waitresses rushing in and out as they took care of their tables. The bench seating was padded suede, the rich cherry wood of the table covered with a white linen cloth. There was a bookcase on the wall at the end of the booth, and our captain, Antoine, pointed out Chef Daniel’s iPod in its dock, which we were welcome to use if we wished to listen to music, or we could replace it with our own if we preferred. A television screen covered one window, but we decided we’d rather hear only ourselves and the sounds of the kitchen as we dined. Photographs of celebrities with Daniel lined the walls, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Tom would wind up there someday.

The table setting for two was elegantly understated, plain white glossy plates, clear glassware, and stainless flatware with minimal embellishment. On the center of each plate was a white linen napkin, and in the middle of the table was a tiny vase that contained three red-yellow hybrid roses. Tom sat on the side facing away from the kitchen, allowing me to enjoy the mostly unobstructed view. I slid into the booth as gracefully as possible, setting my bag to my left. Antoine poured us each a glass of water, presented us with the wine and spirits menu, then left us to ponder its vast selection after advising he’d be back shortly.

As soon as he left I got up again to go look out the window. Flames rose from frying pans, torches burned, plate edges were wiped and the noise…’ordering…picking up…behind you’. I turned around and stood next to Tom, who was perusing the drink menu.

“I have to tell you…this is a thousand times cooler than I could have ever imagined. Thank you.”

He was frowning slightly when he looked up at me, quickly turning it upside-down and into a smile when his eyes met mine. “You are very, very welcome, my love.”

I slithered back into my spot. “Something on your mind?”

A soft sigh escaped him. “Sorry. I just…I guess…I didn’t get a chance to talk to you about the wine I ordered at dinner the other night to find out how you felt…I mean, you seemed okay with it but I thought it warranted discussion.” He shook his head. “And over a romantic dinner seems to be the optimal time to do so, doesn’t it?”

“No time like the present, Tom. It’s fine…I wanted to talk about it too. How I feel is this…I don’t want your decisions about alcohol consumption to be based on my experiences or opinions. That’s something you have to decide for yourself, and make your choices for your own reasons. What I said in Hawaii still stands…as long as it’s controlled and doesn’t cause any issues, it doesn’t bother me.”

He reached for my hand. “Thanks. And you’re absolutely right. What I decide has to come from me, and where I’m at now is I’m done with the hard stuff, though I may still have a glass of wine or a beer with a meal now and again or when the urge strikes me. Tonight, though, the only urge I have is to rip that dress off, bend you over the table and fuck you from behind. So, want to try one of the virgin ones with me? The Ringo 14 looks good…it’s got Granny Smith Apple Juice, Almond, Yuzu, Matcha Tea…um, Maude, you’re squeezing a bit hard there…”

I let go of his hand and patted it gently. “Whoopsie. Sorry about that. But really, you only have yourself to blame, dude.”

Antoine returned and took our drink order, explaining that the first of our eight courses would be served momentarily. I’d never done the tasting menu thing before, but I’d read enough to know everything was probably really, really tiny. I was not proven wrong…first was Long Island Fluke with Sea Urchin, Granny Smith Apple Seaweed Crisp and White Sturgeon Caviar. Tiny, and though I usually didn’t like anything that swam, I ate it anyway, pleasantly surprised at the appealing texture of the Fluke. The Caviar…I just couldn’t, so Tom happily inhaled it all. Next was Duck Consommé with White Port, “Quenelle”, Rutabaga and Savoy Cabbage, which I ate most of, followed by Scottish Langoustines “à la Plancha”, Fennel, Ruby Red Grapefruit, Bergamot Vinaigrette. At that point I stopped paying attention to names because trying to translate the French was hurting my brain and just tried whatever was placed in front of me, chatting with Tom in between mouthfuls of food.

He took a bite of Bison, chewed, then held up a finger as he swallowed. “Question for you. Your books. I was going to put the three you bought at Talk Story away but noticed that you already had a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude on the shelves near the TV, and so I started investigating further and realized that you had duplicates of several titles, one copy on those shelves and the other in the hutch. There were some that were only in the hutch and not on the other shelves as well…seems unlike you to not group everything together…”

I rolled my eyes and interrupted him. “Are you implying I have some sort of organizational OCD? Because…I do.” He was eyeing the last Quail and Foie Gras Pithivier, nabbing it just as my fingers reached for it. Breaking it in half, he handed me my share, grinning. I popped it my mouth and continued to speak as I munched. “So. The books. I’m still totally old school with books. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s just not the same reading them on a tablet. Anyway. I love reading, have always loved reading, and when I travel it makes me feel…connected, I guess? To myself, because never being home can make you forget who you are. The stories remind me. And if the story moves me, it earns a place on my bookshelf, alphabetized by author, then title….that’s how it’s always been. Of course my original collection got left behind in New Orleans, which I’ll never be over, honestly. When I started travelling I found myself buying books on the road more often than when I was here, some as replacements for ones I’d lost, some new to me, and whenever one that was shelf-worthy originated in a location I’d never been before, I’d write my name, the name of the place and the date I bought it inside the front cover. Souvenirs, kind of. Instead of a useless knick-knack or crappy T-shirt.”

Tom was watching me intently, elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, smiling softly, and it occurred to me that we hadn’t really had a conversation like this since before San Diego. Feeling disturbingly normal, I smiled as well, then continued.

“I’m getting to the hutch, I swear.” He laughed. “In addition to all my other weird book habits, I collect first editions. That’s what’s in there. I’ve got some of Anne’s stuff, the Stand, the new One Hundred Years of Solitude is another, and there are some I haven’t read yet. The one I’d like more than anything, though, is the Gunslinger…it’s my white whale, man. Cannot find, been searching for-ev-er.”

His brow furrowed as he pulled out his phone, typed, then turned the screen to me. “There are some on eBay…I’m surprised you haven’t looked there. The unsigned ones are under a thousand. The signed one, though…wow. Sixty-five hundred.”

“I try to not look, because then I’ll BUY it and I’m not ALLOWED to do that.” His expression was one of utter puzzlement. “I have a rule about first editions. To make the experience more…special? Challenging? Meaningful? Something. Yeah. Every single one I buy has to be found ‘in the wild’, not bought online or ordered in for me by a bookseller. That’s why I wound up at Talk Story. Used book stores are, like, gold mines. Tons of regular rocks, then EUREKA!”

He leaned back on the booth cushion, hands out at chest level, palms up. “Well, that explains it, then.”

I snorted. “Sorry you asked?”

“Never. It was a fascinating explanation.” His posture straightened. “Have you written in the ones from Talk Story yet?”

“Nope.”

“Would I, perhaps, be granted permission to inscribe something in one of them?”

I nodded. “Consider it done. And you can write in ALL of them.”

His left eyebrow shot up. “You write in the first editions?”

“Yes. Yes I do. I’m incredibly committed to the things I bring into my life, Tom. And horribly territorial. That treasure be MINE, ye scalawag.” We both laughed, and I pointed at him. “What do you collect? Besides books.”

Antoine slipped into the room and removed our dishes without a sound, not even a clink of silver on porcelain.

Tom rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I do save things from movie sets. I have Loki’s scarves and a good amount of stuff from other things I’ve done. At least one item from every set, if possible. That’s it, really. I was much more of a collector when I was a kid…I had a slew of Jurassic Park toys, nearly every one they manufactured. It was my intent to keep them forever, but Mum sold them at a yard sale when I was away at school, and I’ve yet to forgive her completely.” His eyes lit up. “OH, and I had a bunch of Raiders of the Lost Ark action figures, and a twelve inch Indiana Jones doll… none of them were new, obviously, as the movie came out the year I was born, but I loved them dearly. The former were sold as well, but the latter…I made a critical error in allowing a school friend to borrow him. The friend moved away shortly thereafter and poor Indy never returned to me. I was eight or nine, I think…and I miss him still.”

With that, I knew what I would be buying on eBay once we got to London. Our dessert arrived, Chocolat Biscuit Fondant, Alpaco Sabayon and Dark Cocoa Sorbet. We both asked for coffee, and were astonished when it was served by none other than Chef Daniel. A brief conversation followed, Chef informing us that any friend of Chef Ahlberg was a friend of his, thanking us for coming, and telling Tom that he very much enjoyed him in War Horse and, of course, as Loki. A photo for the wall was taken by yours truly, but Daniel called down to Antoine to have him take another with me in the picture.

His accent was milder than I’d expected, and though his dark hair was peppered with grey he appeared much younger than I knew him to be…I’d checked his wiki earlier and discovered that he was sixty and had been in the New York food game longer than almost anyone else. He kissed both my cheeks, then Tom’s.

“What a lovely couple you are. I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening so far, and feel free to remain and relax with your coffee as long as you wish. Tell Simon I said hello, and that his talent is sorely missed. I must be on my way…we have a food blogger here tonight and I promised her an interview. Au Revoir!”

Antoine had brought the check for us when he took the photo, and returned soon after Chef Daniel’s departure with Tom’s credit card and receipt. I forced myself not to look as he signed and we said goodnight to our Captain.

Alone again, Tom and I drank our beverages as we stood staring down into the kitchen, which was still going at full force despite it being past ten. He turned to me. “I was a waiter one summer. It was…an experience.”

I laughed. “Let me guess, you discovered that people are assholes?” He chuckled. “I waited tables in 1999, for an entire seven months. Not anywhere like this…it was a chain, whose name I shall not reveal in order to protect the innocent. Okay, fine. It was Ruby Tuesday. My god, the stories I could tell you…”

“Please. Do tell.”

“I’ll tell you one now and save the rest for whenever we go out to eat again. Maude’s Cautionary Tales. Chains have regulars just like other places, and there was this one woman who came in every Friday for lunch. She was in her fifties, I think, impeccably dressed, probably on break from work. She always ordered the barbecue chicken…which is one of the only reasons I stayed there as long as I did, I’ll have you know…and sat long after she was done shuffling through paperwork. And farting.”

“No way.”

“Way. The silent but deadly kind, totally stinking the joint up and making everyone nauseated but no one could ever pin the blame on her. Until one Friday in March when the fart wasn’t silent. It was instead thunderous, lengthy and…wet. She went white, put her papers back in her briefcase, threw some money on the table and walked out very gingerly with the briefcase behind her. We all went over to check, and there it was…poop on the booth seat.”

The horror on his face made me giggle. “She shit her PANTS?”

I nodded. “Oh yeah. We drew straws to see who’d have to clean it up. I would have quit if I’d lost. It was disgusting. Never saw her again, either.” My giggle turned into snorts as he began to chuckle. “There’s a moral to that story, Thomas.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

“Too bad. The moral is…never trust a fart.”

That was that, and we both laughed hysterically until I noticed he’d stopped and was staring at my boobs, which were bouncing around rather obscenely as my shoulders shook with mirth. I straightened my spine, raised my hands above my head and stretched like I’d never stretched before. He moaned loudly, and I thought I could hear his teeth grinding.

“Ready to go, Thomas?”

He didn’t answer as he took my coffee cup and his, set them on the table, grabbed my bag and headed down the steps, turning to face me when he reached the bottom. I managed to hold my own dress up as I descended, though I almost wiped out when he ran a finger up my left leg, well past my knee. We waved and smiled as we exited the kitchen, navigated the main dining area as fast as I was able to go, then hopped into the waiting car. The ride home seemed eternal, and when we finally pulled up in front of the building both of us clambered out, Tom quickly thanking and tipping the driver while I waited impatiently on the sidewalk.

Once the elevator doors slid shut, he was all over me, lips on mine, tongue in my mouth as he ground furiously against my pelvis, hands cupping my breasts. A ding at the second floor announced company, an older gentleman who remained with us for the rest of our ride. Tom stood behind me to hide his massive hard on, one hand cupping my ass stealthily.

We exited at the 5th, the gentleman bidding us goodnight. I opened the apartment door, and once we were inside Tom began licking the bare spot between my breasts as his hand reached around me to undo my zipper. I rested one hand on either side of his head, lifting him up to look at me, then pushed him backward. His panting was making me crazy as I slid the dress down my arms, over my hips and let it fall to the floor.

His eyes were wild, but I side-stepped his advance and out of the dress, walking slowly to the bottom of the stairs. He remained in place, unsure of how to proceed, tongue darting out to lick his lips repeatedly as his gaze traveled up, then down, then up, over and over again as he took in the way I looked in the lingerie he’d chosen for me.

An evil smirk played upon my lips. “So, you approve, I take it?”

He nodded, took a step forward, then stopped.

“No, no…don’t stop.” I raised my hand, moving my index finger in a come hither gesture. “You were very well behaved at dinner, Thomas. Come on upstairs and claim your reward, won’t you?”

He ran to my side, passed me, took the steps two at a time and was pacing naked at the foot of the bed by the time I joined him.


	26. Chapter 26

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Mature for profanity, erotica. ANAL PENETRATION, RIMMING, female on male. This may not be your cup of tea, so if you prefer to avoid it just scroll until you hit the RED BAR and pick up there.  
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: So. The first half of this is smut. Blame Pine. And Laing. But mostly Pine. Plus, Maude and Tom went without for two chapters and they were NOT pleased and this was my punishment. :P After the smut, we visit the Carnegie Deli and FAO Schwarz. In the real world, both of these locations were closed during the timeline of my story. I have opened them both because they wanted me to and because I CAN. God, fiction is awesome. Anyhiddles, hope you enjoy. Feedback is very, very appreciated. And feel free to ask questions about any of the characters. Thanks for reading!

Watching Tom pace while clothed was always a delightful show…seeing him do it completely nude with his fully erect cock wobbling back and forth like a metronome was more on the scale of a Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular. I bit my lip as I walked slowly towards him, pausing at the end of the dresser to slip off my shoe, bracelet and earrings. He froze momentarily upon seeing me, then raced over, hands groping my breasts as he gnawed on my neck.

Placing my hands on his shoulders, I eased him up and back. His glare made me quiver, but I stuck to my plan, smiling coyly. “Thomas, will you get on the bed for me please?”

He flung himself down, on his back, arms and legs spread wide, mouth open, tongue out and resting in the left corner.

I shook my head. “Sorry, but despite how glorious you look in that position, I need you up on your hands and knees, please. As close to the bottom as you can get and still be comfortable, head facing the railing.”

His mouth closed as he sat up, eyes questioning. A deep breath followed, the question fading, then replaced with curiosity as he rolled over and did as I asked, knees pressed together beneath him, head down between his arms.

I walked to stand directly behind him. “Thomas, I’m sure you know this already, but your ass…it’s a fucking masterpiece.” My left hand reached out, fingertips caressing it, feather light touches that made him twitch. “Firm, yet soft…like a perfectly ripe fruit. Craning my head back, I discerned which fruit. “A peach. A ripe, juicy peach. Mmm.” Leaning down low, I bit one cheek gently, then slapped the other when he tried to pull away, the sound of my hand striking his flesh making both of us groan.

Both my hands moved to his thighs as I attempted to pry them apart. I might as well have been trying to pick up Mjolnir. “Babe, move your knees out and open those legs for me.”

Head shaking, he spoke quietly. “I don’t think I can.”

I moved to the side of the bed, rested one hand on his back and one knee on the mattress, bent down, then peered at his face from underneath him. His cock had turned deep red and was dripping on the bedspread. “Totally fine if you don’t want to. Will you tell me why, though?”

“Maude, I…I’m not exactly sure where you’re going with this though I think I have a pretty good idea and…I want you to, god how I want you to…but…I…I…guess part of me is nervous that you’ll think I’m less of a man for having an appetite for such a thing. Which sounds thoroughly asinine when I say it. Pure social conditioning, and a concept that I don’t condone or willingly accept. But at the moment it’s getting the best of me, I’m afraid.”

My lips crashed against his, tongue ramming against his teeth until he opened to me and sucked it into his mouth, balancing on one hand as the other twined in my hair, holding me in place as we kissed ourselves breathless. 

I pulled away, staring into his eyes. “Want to know what I think?”

His lips curled up in a small smile. “Yes.”

Pinching his nipple, I ran my tongue over his lips before I spoke. “The only reason you said yes is because you know I’m going to tell you anyway. As per usual.” The smile grew wider. “Allowing yourself to be completely and totally vulnerable in the presence of the person you love, revealing your deepest, most secret desires, then letting that person help you fulfill them…if we’re equating manhood with bravery, as is ‘the norm’ within stereotypical societal constructs, it doesn’t get any manlier than THAT. Plus, I really, REALLY need to TAAAASTTTE you, Thomas. I want to watch you squirm on my tongue and…”

His knees slid across the bedspread so quickly I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d gotten rug burn on both of them. As I backed out from beneath him, he lowered himself onto his elbows, forehead down and resting on a pillow, ass up in the air. My hand moved down his back, index finger working into the crack of his ass as far as I could reach. Kissing him on the temple, I got off the bed and returned to my spot behind him, my breath expelling in a whoosh at the sight of him wide open before me.

“Hiddleston. Even your asshole is perfect.”

He chuckled, peeking around himself to meet my gaze. “Is it? I’ll have to take your word for it, I suppose, as I’ve yet to see it with my own eyes.”

“Want me to take a picture for you?”

“No. God no.”

I shrugged. “Your loss, my friend.” Reaching out with my right hand, I stroked along, downward, from pucker to balls, taking them in my hand and rolling gently, then allowing them to dangle once again as I began to massage his perineum with three fingers. “Tell me what you like and what you don’t as we go, okay?”

“That. I like that. What you’re doing. That.” I pressed harder, looking for the spot that would make him shudder. Somewhere around three quarters and halfway between, I found it. “MAUDE…the fuck…GOD…” Fingers still rubbing but with barely any pressure, I leaned in and licked a stripe from them up and over his pucker. He moaned, a long, deep rumble that seemed to come from his toes, hips thrusting reflexively. “Maaauuuudddeee…ohmyfuckinggod…”

I stopped massaging and slapped his left ass cheek. “Thomas, I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

He whined and pushed his ass back towards me. “More. Please. More.”

Using both hands, I spread his cheeks apart further and began circling the rim around his hole with my tongue, over and over, pausing now and again to push the tip against his entrance, testing. Teasing. A muffled chant of ‘OhohohOH’ ensued, interrupted by an occasional grunt, until I finally breached him, tongue wiggling its way inside. He screamed my name, bucking forward and breaking contact, then pushed back towards me again, panting, chest heaving. Back to work I went, going deeper and deeper until my mouth met his flesh and I began sucking full force as my tongue circled against his walls.

The noises that escaped his lips were ones I hadn’t heard before…an orchestra of shrill cries, gentle squeaks, every vowel sound known to mankind…all drawn out at first then increasing in speed as I fucked him with my tongue. When I knew he was hanging by his fingertips at the edge of the cliff, I withdrew.

“NO! NO! DON’T STOP NOW. NO! NOT NOW! AAAARRGGGHHHH!”

The forcefulness of his response startled me initially, then made me snicker as I wondered if that’s how I sounded when he did the same thing to me. I didn’t reply, instead taking a step back and over to the dresser, opening the bottom drawer where I kept my toys, hoping find some lube. There was an unopened box, and much to my surprise it wasn’t past its expiration date. It wasn’t something I normally required, but I tried to keep some around for those occasions when I was in the mood for some solo butt fun. I ripped the box lid off, pulled out the tube and cracked the top open. Tom had turned to look at me again, craning his neck as he tried to figure out what the fuck I was doing.

His face scrunched up as he smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, love. Got lost in the moment.”

Furrowing my brow, I tapped my chin and raised my eyes skyward, then looked at him, pointing while I stepped forward. “Funny, I know exactly how you feel. Wonder why that is?”

“Ah. Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

I nodded as I turned the tube upside down and began to squeeze. “Speaking of cold…” It hit his skin and he jumped, a good amount winding up in my hand as I reached out to catch it. Why, I had not a clue. Automatic reaction for clumsy people, probably. Figuring I might as well put it to good use, I coated my right index finger liberally, then spread what landed on him all around his entrance.

He couldn’t see what I was up to, but my intent was obvious. “Maude…lord…are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” His hands grabbed the pillow and I fully expected it to explode in a cloud of feathers.

“I am. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Yes. Please do. Yes.”

The tip of my finger probed the opening, noting that my tongue had actually loosened him up quite a bit. “I’m going to go really, really slow. Tell me if I hurt…” Before I could finish, he’d pushed himself back and onto my finger, groaning as it slipped inside him, still pushing even when his ass was flush against my hand. I snorted. “So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” I slid it out, then back in, out, then in, fucking him with it as he began to circle his hips.

“Maude, I…need…need…” I stopped thrusting, holding my index finger steady with just the very top portion still inside him, rested my middle and ring fingers along the rim, then pulled down gently with them as I pushed upward with the other. Using my left hand, I added more lube and watched all three fingers glide into his body with only minimal resistance.

“Fuckfuckfuck that feels so fucking GOOD fuck me please fuck me PLEASE FUCK ME.” I complied, spurred on by his breathless moans and rocking hips, rubbing against the softness of him with the pads of my fingers as I searched for his prostate. Once I’d made note of its location, I began thrusting vigorously, the wetness from my pussy lips beginning to trickle down my thighs. I placed my right knee on the bed between his legs, then reached around his left side to take his cock in hand.

“Ohgodohgodohgod yes, Maude, YES.”

The residual lube allowed me to stroke him quickly, keeping rhythm with the fingers in his ass, his hips pivoting wildly, unsure of whether to focus his thrusting forward into my left hand or backward onto my right one.

“I don’t…I can’t…which…oh fuck, FUCK…not long…coming…hold…please…want you…” He trailed off, babbling wordlessly as I ceased thrusting and pressed a finger firmly into his prostate, still stroking and squeezing his cock. His body stiffened, head raised and mouth open in a silent scream as he orgasmed, then began to shudder, the muscles of his sphincter contracting so hard upon my fingers that it was actually painful. Hot come spurted out of him in time with the contractions, an abnormally copious amount, coating my hand and running down my forearm, his hips jerking frantically against my touch.

Releasing the pressure on his prostate, I removed my fingers as I put my other knee up on the bed, pausing to observe his asshole as it first gaped, then winked repeatedly as it desperately sought something to clench down on. Settling my pelvis against his cheeks, I reached around his right side, arm across his chest, lowering my body to rest lightly on top of him, his cock still in my hand, softening slowly. He was whimpering, barely audible, shudders still wracking him intermittently.

I peppered the spot between his shoulder blades with kisses. “You okay?” He didn’t reply. “Tom? Okay?” Still nothing. “Thomas?”

He rolled over underneath me and pulled me to his chest, nodding as he buried his face in my hair, his breathing labored, body soaked in sweat. I granted him a momentary reprieve, then rose up on my knees, his legs now on either side of mine, my hands lightly caressing his upper arms. “Hiya, baby.”

His eyelids kept closing halfway, then opening wide as he struggled to stay with me, respirations returning to normal, smiling softly as he spoke, voice ragged. “Maude.”

I grinned. “Damn, I was hoping I’d done such a good job that you’d forget my name.”

One hand caressed my lower back as the other reached up to cup my jaw. “I forgot my own fucking name for a bit there.” The hand fell from my jaw as he lowered his arm, such a simple gesture completely exhausting him.

My eyes roamed over his countenance, chuckling. “Thomas, you look thoroughly fucked out. Why don’t you get some rest…”

His head twisted back and forth on the pillow. “No. You still haven’t…”

I leaned forward, my face hovering above his. “I intended for this to be all about YOU, not about me…” His hand wormed between my legs, and as I peered back and under myself I witnessed his cock twitch as he discovered that my thighs were like a slip-and-slide. “Dude, did I really just see what I think I saw?” He rubbed my mound through the playsuit and it happened again. And again. I groaned. “Fucking HELL, Hiddleston.”

I pushed his hand away and wriggled off the bed. “You’re going to rest up here, and I’m going to go take a shower. These pasties are itching like…I don’t know what, but I DO know that I want them OFF. And the makeup too. If you’re still awake when I’m done you have my express permission to fuck me into the mattress. If you’re asleep, I’m letting you stay that way. Sound acceptable?”

He sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, wrapping his arms around my waist, his head against my belly. “Mmm hmm. And Maude?” Face upturned, the look in his eyes floored me. I saw love there, and contentment…and trust. Deep, abiding, trust. “Thank you.”

“You’re very, very welcome, my love. I’m honored to have been your first.”

“And you’ll be my last.” Rising shakily to his feet, his mouth found mine, exploring the taste of himself on my lips and tongue. I felt him smiling as he pulled away. “You know, that’s not half bad, is it?”

I shook my head, grinning. “No. It isn’t. Salty, and a little sour. Not what I expected at all.”

He leaned back, hands on my shoulders. “What do you mean, not what you expected?”

My head tilted to the side. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

His mouth dropped open, then closed. “Had you not done…that…before?”

“Given a guy a rim job? Nope. Never really fingered anyone to such an extent, either…”

His brows rose quizzically, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “You’ve never. Never before.”

I roared with laughter. “Erotica, Thomas. Erotica. In addition to getting your rocks off, it serves as an incredibly useful instructional tool. Taught me everything I could ever wish to know. Aaaandd some things I didn’t.”

He joined me in laughing, then rubbed his half hard cock against me. “You should probably shower now.”

“Yep. Going. You rest.”

“I will.”

He lied. I’d barely bagged the boot and stepped under the spray when I heard him tromping down the steps.

“Thomas? What are you doing?”

I saw his shadow as he walked into the bathroom. “Using the facilities, if you don’t mind. And then I’m going to dig around in your cabinets and hope I find something edible.” He washed his hands and exited, off on his foraging adventure. Which would probably turn out to be an epic failure, because unless he enjoyed stale potato chips he was most likely shit out of luck.

I washed my face first, scrubbing as best I could without losing a contact lens. When I saw how icky the cloth was I suddenly remembered why I rarely bothered with ‘putting on a face’. What a fucking hassle, and the thing of it was, if you dolled yourself up every day what were you supposed to do for a special occasion? Better to go au naturel as often as possible…then when the time came and you had to dress up, you’d look…different, at least. Hair came next, and I was relieved to smell the scent of my orange and vanilla shampoo instead of styling product. As I was rinsing I heard crunching, and I just HAD to poke my head out of the curtain to see what the fuck he was eating. Tom was standing in the doorway, naked, with a box of Honey Nut Cheerios in one hand, the other tossing handfuls into his mouth one after the other.

“Just so you know, I don’t even remember buying those. Did you check the expiration date?”

He shrugged, chewing nosily. “I care not a whit. They’re DELICIOUS.”

Shaking my head, I closed the curtain and stared down at the pasties, remembering that Veronica had mentioned hot water would make them pliable enough to get some oil under. Oil. Fuck. Did I have oil? I poked my head out of the curtain again.

“Hey, will you do me a favor?”

One hand shot to his hip, resting there as he listed to one side. “Depends.”

“Well, if you ever want to see my nipples again you should probably say yes, unquestionably.”

The hand rose to chest level and extended out to me, palm up. “Tell me what you need, my lady.”

“Oil. There might be some olive or vegetable in the kitchen…I doubt it, but one never knows…”

He grinned at me. “Be right back.”

I used the massager with the water cranked up as high as I could stand it, first on one side, then the other, while I waited. Tom’s voice reached me from the hallway. “Nope, not a drop. But I have an idea.”

I heard him on the stairs again, and wondered what the fuck he thought he was going to find up in the loft. Sighing, I leaned my head against the shower wall in defeat, only to be interrupted by him flinging the curtain open and handing me an ancient bottle of Patchouli oil.

“Shit, where did you find THAT?”

“At the back of the little drawer where you keep perfume collection.”

“This is like, from, COLLEGE.” Shaking my head, I held it up to the light. “Nothing growing in it. Fuck it, I’m using it. These need to come off.” Opening the bottle carefully so I didn’t spill it all over, I covered the top with my finger and tipped it, then rubbed my finger around the edge of the right pastie, pulling it back enough to be able to pour a few drops down inside. A few wiggles and tugs later, it was off and sitting in the soap dish, quickly joined by the other one, though I’d dumped out way more oil than I intended that time around. As I screwed the cap down, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Tom was standing, staring, cock in hand. I took a step toward him and slipped, my dumbass-self forgetting that oil + water + tile = DANGER WILL ROBINSON. He caught me before I had the chance to attempt to do so on my own, my slippery chest pressed hard against him, his upper body inside the shower, lower half in the safe zone.

“Christ, woman…that was too close. You all right?”

I nodded and straightened up with his assistance, leaning my back against the rear wall of the shower. “Oh yeah. I’m good. Nice catch there. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, love. I’ll clean this up so you can finish showering…and I want you to stay right there while I do.”

I grinned. “Sir, yes sir.”

He growled against my neck as he reached for the liquid soap and the washcloth I’d been using, then squatted and wiped down the entire shower floor. The water from the rain head and the massager created the most alluring smacking sounds as it hit his skin, his back muscles rippling in the torrent from above. When he stood to rinse he glanced at me, eyes roaming up and down, tongue darting out to lick his wet lips. After thoroughly rinsing the soap down the drain, he hung the massager back in its spot, closed the curtain and knelt in front of me, cock fully erect.

Placing one hand on his head, I ruffled his wet hair playfully. “Dude, that is SO bad for your knees.”

“Shut it, Maude, and lift that right leg for me.” As I did, he slid closer to me and hefted it over his shoulder, exposing my pussy, a tiny bit of fuzz beginning to grow back in. While I pondered whether or not it would be difficult to get a Brazilian wax in London, he spread my lips open and took my clit between his teeth, shaking gently, then letting go in order to suck it into his mouth and work it back and forth with his tongue.

My head fell back against the wall, eyes closed as I bit my lip. “Thomas. Fucking A.”

He continued until I began to hump his face, then tipped my hips toward him and thrust his tongue inside me, thumb rubbing my nub in slow circles. I ground myself against him harder as his tongue moved in and out, paused to circle, then resumed its thrusting.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK that feels AMAZING. Do NOT stop. Please. I want to come all over your face, Thomas. DO NOT STOP.” He increased the pressure on my clit and began rubbing it furiously, tongue working its magic faster and faster until the coil of sexual tension that had been building inside me all day unwound in a chorus of fucks, ohmygods, and Toms with a bit of wailing and moaning singing backup. Before I’d completely finished he was standing, lifting my leg with him, hooking his arm under the other as well and telling me to wrap them around his waist, pushing himself inside me as he bit down on my lower lip, sliding me up and pressing me to the wall, hands gripping my ass and thighs tightly as I wrapped my arms around his neck, one hand in his hair and pressing his forehead to mine, the other holding his shoulder.

He’d raised me up so we were face to face, mouths open and tongues tangling sloppily in open air. Every thrust lifted me a bit higher up the wall to the point where I was an inch taller than him, his hips circling as his cock drove into me over and over again. I lost myself in him, eyes closed, trying to kiss him but often missing and licking his face, his jaw, him gripping mine in his teeth, noses rubbing against each other, until he began speaking between grunts.

“You love the way my cock feels inside you, don’t you, Maude?” A grunt from him, a nod from me. “How it fills you completely?” Grunt and nod. “Your pussy positively aches for it, doesn’t it? All day, all night, only finding relief when I’m pounding into you again and again, stretching your walls to their very limit, yes?” A frantic nod and a breathless ‘uh huh’ from me, followed by my muscles clenching his cock desperately and a long, low moan from him as he stilled, thrusting abruptly halted.

“That’s it, there you go. Squeeze. Again. Mmm. It’s so hard, isn’t it, my cock? Hard as stone. All thanks to you. Keep going. Tighter. Faster. Oh, yes. Make me come, Maude. Milk my cock. Drain me dry.”

Fingers still in his hair, I opened my eyes, yanked his head back and met his gaze. “That’s not YOUR cock, Thomas. That’s MY cock. Now shut up and fuck me with it.”

His jaw slipped to one side, teeth grinding. “Oh, I’ll fuck you with it all right. I’ll fuck you until come so hard that you can’t stop coming, Maude. And then I’ll fuck you some more. How’s that sound?” He pulled out until just the head was inside me, paused, then slammed back into me, my body sliding up the tiles even further as my second orgasm of the day washed over me. His eyes studied my face to ensure he hadn’t hurt me, then began repeating the process, out, pause, slam, gradually increasing his speed until I was coming again every time his cock grazed my G-spot, finally moving so rapidly that it was, indeed, like one long, never-ending orgasm. I was on the verge of begging him to stop when I felt his rhythm begin to falter, cock twitching and spurting inside me as he moaned fervidly into my neck, making me shiver as I clutched at him.

We remained entwined for what seemed like seconds and eternity all at once, his full weight pressed against me, the only thing holding me aloft as his hands fondled my breasts, my neck, my face…anywhere he could reach. The sounds of the shower, water spraying, pattering on the tile and gurgling down the drain, served as the backdrop to our panting, occasional whimpers and gentle, wordless murmurs of affection for each other. Knowing the boot must be digging him something fierce, I unwound my legs from his waist and let them fall slowly to the floor, and he pulled back as I did so, withdrawing his cock, albeit grudgingly.

I patted his cheek with the limited energy I was able to muster. “You should feel confident in knowing that if you ever grow bored with acting you could have a lucrative career as a phone sex operator, because, DAMN…that was SO fucking hot. Hoo boy.”

He snickered. “You seem to have a gift for it as well. ‘That’s MY cock.’ I’d ask if you have any idea what that did to me, but I have a very strong suspicion that you already know.”

“Oh, you bet your ass I know. And I really, really enjoyed finding out.”

Stepping backwards across the tile, he grabbed the shower massager, holding it out towards me. “Need to rinse off?”

“Thomas, if that thing gets within a foot of my clit right now it’ll fucking KILL me. So, thanks, but NO.”

After hanging it back up he turned off the water, opened the curtain and stepped outside to grab towels for both of us. I carefully maneuvered out into the bathroom as well, drying myself off as best I could, then letting the towel fall to the floor. I peed as he waited for me in the doorway, and after cutting through the duct tape and de-bagging my foot we wandered upstairs together, already in a dream state, only lacking the horizontal viewpoint and cozy blankets, which we remedied post-haste.

***************************************

When I woke it was in a panic, realizing I couldn’t recall closing the shades. Tom was still sound asleep, his head resting on my shoulder, face buried in my neck, left arm and leg on top of me. I could see the clock from my spot…well past noon. Judging by the light level in the room, he must have closed them, or else it was wicked cloudy outside.

Shaking him gently, I attempted to speak softly but my lowest volume level sounded like a sonic boom in the quiet of the apartment. “Tom? You awake?”

His head lifted, then was propped up by his right arm. “Well I am now, woman.” He stuck his tongue out at me.

I sat up, craning my neck to verify that the shades were, in fact, down. “Please tell me you closed those, you know, BEFORE.”

“Oh, actually, I got up at about six and shut them because the light was bothering me.” I raised a brow, frowning as my fingers drummed on the forearm that was now in my lap. He laughed. “I see someone’s got no sense of humor this morning. Did it last night right after Veronica got here.”

“My sense of humor is present and accounted for, asshat. It’s just that…you’re not funny.”

We took turns in the shower after the tickle fight that had ensued ended, dressed and caught a cab to make the three mile trek to the Carnegie Deli. As we stepped out onto the curb I spread my arms wide and spun around, dressed in my blue-grey caffeine molecule T-shirt and cut-off jean shorts, single black Birki making yet another appearance.

“Strawberry Cheesecake, COME TO MAMA!”

Tom had donned my Prodigy T-shirt with the Music for a Jilted Generation album cover image on it after I made the mistake of telling him to help himself when he began admiring my extensive collection that took up five full drawers. I reclined on the bed for the ten minutes it took for him to decide upon that one, or the Loki shirt I’d bought when we were on Kauai. Loki, we agreed, would just be asking for people to notice us, especially with me in the stupid walking boot.

He grinned, pointing at my right ankle as I completed my spin. “You know, you’ve yet to mention that today. Feeling better?”

“It is, I think. I took ibuprofen as soon as I went downstairs, though. Trying to keep up with the dosage.”

There was a line of six people or so, which was actually quite short for a Saturday…we must have hit it perfectly between the lunch and dinner rush. Standing back, hands on his hips, he gazed up at the yellow sign with blue and red known all around the globe. “Established in 1937, family owned for three generations, motto ‘If you can finish your meal, we’ve done something wrong.’ Woody Allen filmed bits of Broadway Danny Rose here in 1984. Most famous deli in America. Did I miss anything?”

Rolling my eyes, I patted him on the shoulder. “Someone’s been Googling, haven’t they? No, your facts are correct…but what you DID miss…you’ll have to wait until we go in to figure that out.”

Twenty minutes later we were sitting at a table near the kitchen, right next to the Coke machine, Tom watching the monstrous plates of food going past us with awe. It was a four top, about as private as one could hope for in an open seating restaurant, and the place was packed to capacity. He looked around, nervously at first, after our white-shirted and black-vested waiter dropped off the menus and took our drink order, eyes finally coming back to mine, head shaking back and forth slowly.

I smiled and leaned forward, wanting to whisper but knowing I’d never be heard above the constant buzz of voices that enveloped us. “I know. No one’s looking at you. Celebrities in this place are a dime a dozen.” I pointed to the walls, covered with autographed photos and memorabilia. “Zero fucks are given. Granted, the tourists are an exception, but they tend to hang back and do what everyone else does. Probably because they’re afraid someone will yell at them. How do you normally make out in London?”

He shrugged. “In my neighborhood, it’s business as usual. Other locales, people notice, and I get stopped occasionally. More frequently when a movie’s just hit theaters. Other than that…well, I can still ride the tube without causing a stampede. So it’s fine.”

“And what neighborhood is that, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Both his elbows hit the table as he rested his head in his hands, staring down at first, then peering up at me sheepishly. “You don’t know where I…where WE…live. Because I never told you. God, I’m such a tit.”

Grinning, I reached out and booped his nose. “No you aren’t. I neglected to tell you where the apartment was until we got here. And…I don’t know where I WORK, either. I am totally living on the edge these days, lemme tell ya.”

He laughed and took my hand. “We live in…”

I held up the other to stop him. “I’d advise against saying that out loud in public.”

Nodding, he released me and pulled his phone from his pocket, typed, then passed it to me. I stared at the Google map for a moment. Marylebone. All righty then. I zoomed out, saw it wasn’t far from Regent’s Park, which I had heard of.

“You’ve never heard of it.”

“I have not. I know of the park nearby, but…yeah. It appears that my knowledge of the geographic hierarchical structure of your country is grossly inadequate.”

Snorting, he took back his phone. “It’s all London, right?”

It was my turn to put my face in my hands, mumbling into them. “Well, this is mortifying.” Looking up through my fingers I saw his face, eyes amused, smirk upon his lips. “IS it all London?”

“Yes. That’s the region. Then there’s the ceremonial county, which is Greater London, then the borough, which is Westminster. Then the city. Not much different from New York. Just not familiar to you. Yet.”

The waiter came back with our drinks and took our order…the Woody Allen for Tom, chosen in honor of Midnight in Paris, and the Nosh, Nosh Nanette for me because open faced hot turkey sandwiches slathered in gravy with steak fries on the side made my heart sing. And maybe my arteries clog, but, fuck that.

Tom had held on to the menu to read over all the options again, tickled at the names, most in some way related to the deli’s location, theater, or celebrity across all artistic mediums. Ones that particularly amused him he’d read out loud, both of us giggling at the puns. Expression growing suddenly serious, he set it down at the edge of the table and focused all his attention on me.

“Maude, are you…nervous?”

My brows rose. “That our food isn’t here yet? Absolutely.” His head tilted to the side, lips pressed together. “Oh…do you mean about relocating to a strange city and having a new job and a boss for the first time in years? No. Not at all. I’m excited about those things. I am, I hate to admit, really, REALLY nervous about one thing in particular though.”

He reached out and took both my hands, his shaking almost imperceptibly. “Which is?”

I cast my eyes to the side, tongue firmly planted in my cheek, then looked back at him. “Meeting. Your. Mother. Nervous may not be the right word. Anxious? No. Terrified? Yep, that’s the one. Terrified. Which is so unlike me, but it is what it is, I guess.”

Rubbing my wrists with his thumbs, he smiled softly. “Don’t be. She’ll fall in love with you the moment she meets you, just like I did.”

“Weeelll, I’d REALLY like to believe that but…um…my magic eight ball says outlook not good. And you know, I understand…she loves you, and she’s seen all the pain your previous relationship caused you, and I’m a divorced former alcoholic with a seriously fucked up family and personal history, so of course she’s going to be skeptical and wary…you’re her child and she wants to protect you.” I smiled back. “Can’t fault her for that, can I?”

He lifted my hands to his lips and placed a kiss on each palm. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

As I began singing the next few lines while his smile grew ever wider, we were interrupted by someone standing next to our table.

“Tom? Wow…I knew you were in New York but…wow. What a small world…how are you, man?”

I turned my head to see none other than Mark Ruffalo, dressed in navy cotton shorts, a light blue T-shirt, and a pair of old-school flip-flops, dark blue baseball cap sitting atop his salt and pepper hair. Tom leapt to his feet and extended his hand, which Mark took and pulled him into an embrace.

“Mark! How amazing to see you here…I’m great. Really great.” Tom left one arm around Mark and gestured in my direction with the other. “Mark, this is Maude Gallagher. Maude, Mark Ruffalo.”

Standing, I held out my own hand but found myself quickly locked in a bear hug, greatly amused at the fact that there I was, in the middle of New York City, at the Carnegie Deli, the Hulk hugging me while Loki observed us.

Stepping back, Mark patted my shoulder repeatedly as he spoke. “Maude, so nice to meet you…and I’m so sorry for your loss.”

It took me a moment for his comment to sink in, but I managed to reply before enough time had gone by to make me look like an idiot. “Thank you, Mark. Lovely to meet you as well.”

Tom looked puzzled, and Mark laughed. “Tom, man…I started following her on Twitter when you were in Hawaii. And you guys are everywhere online.” He turned back to me. ““Maude, I see you have your work cut out for you with the whole social media thing.”

I laughed as well, and Tom pointed at both of us. “Fine, fine. Be that way. Now gather round so I can do a group selfie, if you please.”

We posed, and as Tom and Mark posted the pics our food arrived. Mark tried to refuse our invitation, but we insisted that he join us, and our waiter brought his to-go order over as soon as it was ready. Tom tried to squeeze down his tower of pastrami and corned beef so it would fit in his mouth, but to no avail. Mark downed his Zorba the Greek Salad in no time flat, and I impressed the hell out of him by actually finishing my hot turkey sandwich. They did most of the talking, both of them totally amped up as they discussed Mark’s visit earlier in the day to a start-up in Brooklyn aiming to introduce wind turbines in as many US urban markets as possible. After ordering dessert, I excused myself and took a pee break. As I neared the table when I returned, I overheard them talking about me and paused to listen in. Which was rude, but nosiness got the better of me.

“Tom, she’s…wow. Isn’t it wild, the way someone who’s going to be such an integral part of your life just drops in out of nowhere? Like, you’re just doing your thing and it’s all good and them BAM. I mean, I was walking down the street when I met Sunrise and I knew right then and there. I’m really, really happy for you.”

“Thanks, man. It happened so fast, hasn’t even been a month yet, but…like you, I knew. And that she felt the same way…what a miracle. It’s like being born again, loving someone like this.”

Our waiter walked past me with our Strawberry Cheesecakes, and I followed, three steps behind him, feeling guilty for eavesdropping and trying not to tear up at what I’d heard. I took my spot next to Mark and gazed longingly at my slice of paradise, New York cheesecake topped with freshly sliced strawberries, glaze dripping down the sides.

“Fellas, this right here…this is why I will always have an apartment in New York. In the event of a zombie apocalypse, this will be my first stop, and I will happily kick the ass of anyone who gets in my way as I raid the freezers to snatch last of it.”

They both laughed, and I demanded to pick up the check, paying at the register as Mark and Tom headed outside. We said our goodbyes, and I hailed a cab and gave him the address of our next destination, FAO Schwarz.

Tom’s eyes lit up, a huge smile on his face, tongue peeking out from behind his teeth. “You’re taking me to a toy store.”

“Not A toy store, Thomas. THE toy store. Have you ever been?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve always wanted to see it. Quite badly, actually. Do they still have the piano from Big, do you think? Because ten year old me NEEDS them to still have it, Maude.”

I pinched his cheek. “Dude, why do you think we’re fucking GOING?”

***************************************

The cab let us out right in front, and I’m pretty sure Tom squealed when he saw the Toy Soldier at the door but traffic was too noisy to be certain. He turned to me, hands on my shoulders.

“My god, I am SO EXCITED. Are YOU excited?”

“Oh yeah.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “You are literally VIBRATING with excitement, Tom. As you should be. Let’s get in there and behave in the most un-adult like way POSSIBLE.”

We walked through the doors, hand in hand, Tom turning to me as he first pointed to the giant Jurassic World display to the right of the entrance, then dragged me over so he could grab a huge display toy off one of the shelves.

“MY GOD, INDOMINUS REX!” He moved its arms and held it out to me, roaring and I reached for the T-Rex, chomping at its flank and growling. We battled until we noticed several small children had gathered around us, watching and trying to determine if we were some strange species or staff putting on a show. We both bent down and handed off our goods to the two kids nearest us and moved on to the stuffed animals, petting as many as we could, then took the escalator upstairs…first stop, Legos.

There was a life-size Lego Captain Jack Sparrow, and I walked around him, studying him carefully. “This is insane. I can barely make a freaking house out of these things, and even when I do it’s just four walls, a wonky window or two and a door. I can NEVER get the roof right.”

“I could always do small things from a kit, but a few friends and I tried our hands at a Millennium Falcon once and it was…NOT the Falcon.”

Next came the Lionel trains, the displays so realistic I thought I saw one of the people moving. We stopped at every one, watching them go over, under, and around. Tom spotted Midtown Comics and ran off without me, apologizing when I finally found him way in the back checking out a Marvel Select Loki figure, turning it this way and that in its box.

I took it from him, looking back and forth from its face to his. “They did an excellent job with this…it really looks like you.” I paused, imagining seeing a toy with my likeness. “Is it weird, having your face on something like this?”

He shook his head, moved behind me, then rested his chin on my shoulder as he spoke. “Honestly? I love it. It’s the most amazing gift to have played him, to be associated with a figure whose mythos reaches so far back in human history. Imagine, however many years from now, someone’s researching Loki and happens across one of these…a small slice of immortality, I suppose. Part of me still can’t believe any of it’s real…I always wanted to be an actor, but never could have envisioned any of this.”

I tucked toy Loki under my arm, and Tom lifted his head from my shoulder, peeking around at my face.

I shrugged. “What? I’m buying him.”

He smirked. “But you have the real thing, Maude.”

“True. He’s for keeping me company whenever we have to be apart.” I cleared my throat. “And, you know, to maybe pass on and stuff.”

Biting his lip, he stepped in front of me and rested his forehead on mine. “Well, aren’t you adorable. Such a sweet sentiment, my love.”

I rolled my eyes. “God, I know. So sweet I may barf. All your fucking fault, too, with your heavily pregnant shit last night.” He kissed first one cheek, then the other, then my lips, tongue thrusting into my mouth, and I pushed him away gently. “Nope. No. The only way that ends is sex in the FAO Schwarz bathroom, and that’s too tacky, even for me.” 

A short walk through the Barbie hallway display later, there it was…the Big piano, and we got in line to wait our turn, two small families in front of us. Tom had pulled up the movie scene on his phone, watching it on repeat, sound barely audible. There were eight people behind us, and when we were up at bat he didn’t waste a single second, finding the right spot and smiling at me, tongue out and almost touching his nose. I whipped out my phone, walked around so I was in front of him and captured every bit of his rendition of Chopsticks in high definition glory. The crowd of thirty plus had gone unnoticed by me as I filmed, and after an initial moment of panic when I DID notice, having heard things like ‘Is that him?’ and ‘Mom, that’s LOKI!’ I realized everyone was being very respectful and remaining behind the ropes that cordoned off the piano. As I walked around and back behind them to join Tom, he bowed and the crowd applauded. Flashes went off, and I heard a chorus of clicks, but no one followed when Tom took my arm and we walked to the down escalator, then headed toward the Schweetz shop.

I stopped in front of the lollipops, and he put his arm around my waist. “Didn’t even occur to me that I’d draw a crowd. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I was totally ready to go into crow control mode if the need arose. Truthfully, I think it was more about how good you were as opposed to who you are, at least at first. As soon as we get in a cab I’m putting it on Tumblr because man, you were fucking AWESOME.”

He grinned. “I was, wasn’t I?”

I handed him my phone so he could see for himself as I picked out a cotton candy lollipop, some Whoppers and two pounds of fudge…chocolate, chocolate peanut butter, red velvet, and rocky road. Tom opted for some Swedish fish and Gummy Bears, and after we got in line at the checkout counter he ran off toward the Jurassic World display, returning with smaller versions of Indominus rex and the Tyrannosaur that we’d had fun with earlier.

Raising a brow, I gave him some serious side eye in jest, and he rocked back and forth on his heels. “I thought… maybe we could play some more later? And I chose the small ones so they’d fit in our luggage.”

I shook my head. “Well, I was down with it until you got all responsible by thinking ahead and shit. Now I I’m just going to have to play with myself.” He chuckled. “Wait, no. Play with THEM myself. Oy, shut the fuck up, Maude.”

He was still laughing when the cashier rang us up, and beat me to the punch at providing a credit card for payment, her eyes widening and jaw dropping when she looked at the name on it, then at his face, then back at the card.

Once we were outside, I logged into Tumblr and posted the video while Tom hailed a cab, just titling it ‘Chopsticks’ with no additional commentary. It was almost seven thirty, and we’d decided to head back to the apartment to pack up tonight so we wouldn’t have to worry about in the morning. Our flight was scheduled to leave at noon, with us arriving in London around eleven PM.

I rested my head on his shoulder during the ride back, watching the cars move at a snail’s pace, then zooming forward, wondering what traffic was like in London and if I’d be able to drive on the wrong side of the road. The sound of his voice snapped me out of my musing.

“Maude, that was so much fun…thank you. I can’t even remember the last time I was in a toy stote…really, it was fantastic. Thanks.”

I patted his thigh. “You’re very welcome. The joy on your face when you were on the piano…epic. I would have loved to play something with you…stupid ankle.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Next time.”

I nodded, then lifted myself off his shoulder and turned to look at him. “Tom, do you have a car?”

His eyes widened, then his brow furrowed. “Yes, I do. At the moment it’s the Jaguar the company gave me when I did the commercial. Why?”

“Well, I figured I’d apologize in advance for wrecking it when I attempt to learn to drive on the wrong side of the road, but good lord, a fucking JAG? Maybe I’ll just stick with the subway.”

Grinning, he poked my chest with his index finger gently. “You mean the Underground. Or the Tube.”

I crossed my arms. “Oh, do I? Hmm, maybe the car is a better option after all…”

“You know what? Subway’s just fine. Subway it is. Subway.”


	27. Chapter 27

TITLE OF STORY: Your Light in the Mist  
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 27  
AUTHOR: http://maevecurrywrites.tumblr.com/  
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom  
GENRE: Humor/Romance/Angst  
FIC SUMMARY: Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Mature for profanity, erotica.  
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: First off, so sorry for the long delay…should be back on track to do bi-weekly going forward. And sorry about the weird spacing…shit is not copying properly and I fixed it once then my browser froze and I just…cannot. That being said, it’s LONDON TIME BABY! Okay, inside Tom’s flat in London time. Lots of description, a little surprise I didn’t know about until I wrote this, and a brand new character that I ALSO did not know about. And, smut. The bit in there about the fan stuff…totally wrote that before I saw the quote from Tom’s interview. Next chapter I’m going to write about him meeting a pudgy married woman at WalMart and see what happens. :P Hope you enjoy. Feedback is very, very appreciated. And feel free to ask questions about any of the characters. Thanks for reading!

We touched down at Heathrow shortly after eleven PM London time, a light rain falling as we walked to the cab after rescuing our luggage. Packing had gone relatively smoothly, other than Tom trying to sneak items from my special toy drawer into whatever suitcase happened to be open whenever I turned my back. As soon as I’d remove one, another one would reappear as if it had teleported in from another dimension…the fact that I REALLY wanted to leave them all behind didn’t finally sink in for him until I loudly declared that a.) I now I had a living, breathing sex toy that was way more fun than all of them combined, b.) Amazon shipped to the UK and c.) if the TSA decided to go through my shit, which was more likely than normal because of my walking boot, I was going to take a selfie with the agent AND the toys and send it to his mother. Which was obviously more detrimental to me than to him, but Tom either didn’t register that or got caught up in the other two talking points I’d made, quickly returning all my little (and not so little) friends to their proper home.

Both of us worked through the majority of the flight, checking emails, returning calls and researching. I sent Barty and Veronica my shipping address, and Barty replied instantly, updating me on the status of the title paperwork and estate sale progress. Everything was right on track, and the eight boxes of photos that had been discovered in the garage would be sent my way once the cleaning was completed, along with any additional images that turned up.

Forty minutes after leaving the airport, our cab first slowed, then came to a stop in front of 50 York Street. I opened the curbside door and exited as Tom did the same on the opposite side, feeling as if I was in an alternate reality. Though it was very dark due to the inclement weather, the glow of the streetlamps cut through the mist to reveal a four story row home, reddish colored brick on the upper two levels, whitewashed on the lower. A short wrought iron fence delineated where the property ended and the next began, as well as protected passersby from falling into the window wells of the basement level. The exterior door was white, and the path leading to it between the gated areas was comprised of very small black and white checkered tiles.

The sound of the cab pulling away caused me to spin round, finding Tom standing amidst our piles of baggage. I’d brought two more large suitcases than I normally did and quickly went over to grab one, only to be shooed away with a grin.

“I’ve got these. Let me just open the door so you can get out of the rain first.” He jogged around me, inserted his key into the lock, turned, then pushed inward. “Here you are, milady.”

I raised both brows. “You do know that it rains in America, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t ruin my attempt at gallantry, woman.”

Sticking my tongue out in his general direction, I walked past him and into the vestibule. Two metal doors, painted white, were three feet in front of me, spaced ten feet or so apart, and to the far left and far right were staircases, midpoint landings all that were visible from my position. A thud as he dropped two suitcases alerted me to his presence.

“The building was split up into four sections, each with two levels. Those doors there in front of you are for the main and basement level flats, and the stairs lead to the second and third level flat entrances. We’re up the left one. Want to go up and wait for me?”

“Why not? By the time I make it to the top you’ll probably have passed me twice so I don’t think there’ll be much actual waiting happening.”

He grinned as he went back out onto the sidewalk, and I snagged a small suitcase and my carryon. Not being able to drag around my own crap was propelling me toward batshit crazy, and I managed to make it all the way to the landing before he noticed.

 

“Maude. What are you doing?”

I looked down at the bags. “Um, transporting luggage?”

He jogged up the stairs, and I sighed heavily as I relinquished my load. “Dude, I totally had those.”

A kiss on the tip of my nose, followed by a smack on my left ass cheek. “I know. But I’m enjoying taking care of you.”

My eyes rose skyward, arms crossed, gaze then lowering to meet his. “I’m loathe to admit that I have no rebuttal at this time. So I’ll just say thank you instead.” He smiled, tongue between his teeth, and I pointed my index finger at him. “But be aware that unless you want me to turn into a spoiled rotten lazy little beyatch, once this boot comes off you’re going to have to let me participate in physical activities again…”

His left brow rose, and I stepped forward and placed my hand gently over his mouth. “Geh. No.” I could feel the laughter beneath my palm, and as soon as I moved my hand away he leaned in to kiss me, then bolted up the next flight of stairs. Shaking my head, I kept trudging along until I reached the hallway, an area seven feet wide that extended the entire length of the building to the top of the right staircase. The street facing windows were on one side, the white apartment doors on the other, with two benches, four chairs and several potted plants and trees in between. I immediately walked to the windows, peering out and down as I traced the brick surface with my fingers. Tom stood behind me, reaching out to touch it as well.

“That’s the original brick there, and inside it’s on two outer walls, downstairs and up. But, you’ll see that soon enough. I’ll be right back…make yourself comfortable.”

I walked down the twenty feet or so to the door, marked with nothing but a brushed chrome numeral ‘3’. I traced that as well, over and over again, my mind swirling as I tried to process that I now lived at Flat 3, 50 York Street. For the second time, suitcases hitting the floor made me reminded me I wasn’t alone…though it appeared they were the last of the lot, which meant I’d been far off in the stratosphere for what must have been three other instances. He caught my hand as it fell slowly from the door, thumb rubbing the fleshy part of mine, down near my palm.

“Touchy tonight, are we?” My head tilted to the side, not comprehending what he was getting at. He smiled softly. “You’re running your fingers all over everything and it’s driving me a bit mad, Maude.”

I winked, then kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your turn.”

He shifted his hips, listing to one side, pouting. “But I want all the turns.”

“Don’t be greedy, Milton.” He tilted his head quizzically. “That’s from Office Space. There’s a birthday cake and one of the…”

Bringing my hand down, he opened it and placed the palm against his cock, half hard and twitching beneath his jeans. “You can call me whatever you’d like as long as the night comes to a close with this buried inside you.”

At that moment, the door of flat number four opened and a silver-haired woman dressed all in black stepped out into the hallway, waving and heading in our direction.

“Thomas, love, it IS you! I heard voices and thought I should perhaps investigate since you weren’t due back until morning.” As she drew closer I noted that she was in amazing shape, and I couldn’t pin down her age. Black jeans, black sleeveless mock-turtleneck, black cardigan. A silver necklace hung delicately between her small breasts, a charm of what appeared to be a frog situated in the center between two green stone beads. Her hair was shoulder length, neatly coiffed and was truly silver…incredibly elegant, highlighting a pair of deep brown eyes that looked strangely familiar.

Tom stepped forward to embrace her. “Phaedra! Lovely to see you, as always.” He leaned back, taking her in. “Not your usual working garb, is it?”

She chuckled as she released him. “No, darling. Just got back from a show at the Cube Gallery, actually. Opening night for yours truly.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Really? That’s stupendous! Congratulations…long time coming, well overdue. How did it…” His voice trailed off as he turned to me, then back to her. “Ladies, please pardon my appalling lack of manners…Maude Gallagher, Phaedra Windsor. Phaedra, Maude.”

Before we had a chance to properly greet each other, I spied Luke, dressed in a white dress shirt, open at the neck, and black dress pants, peeking out of the door Phaedra had left ajar, a baffled look on his face as he first looked right, then left at us. “Mum? Who on earth are you talking…”

She rolled her eyes, exactly the way Luke did with his own, then turned her head toward him. “Hush up, won’t you, love? I’m in the middle of extending a warm welcome to your shiny new Social Media Director for fuck’s sake.”

Luke’s chin lowered to his chest as he shook his head back and forth, one hand up and waving at me. “Hello Maude. I see you’ve met my mother.” At that, I heard Simon’s voice in the distance, followed by visual confirmation of his existence as he shoved Luke aside and bolted out the door and down the hall in order to throw himself at me, his pale lilac dress shirt untucked from his charcoal grey dress pants, feet bare.

“MAAAAUUUUDDDEEE! You’re here, you’re here and I AM SO EXCITED!” His arms wrapped around me as he kissed both my cheeks, then pinched them, breath smelling of wine. “Thanks for fucking letting me know you’d be here TONIGHT instead of TOMORROW.”

I hugged him back, then let go, standing and staring at each of them in turn, finally offering my hand to Phaedra. “Hello, Phaedra. Very nice to meet you.” As she shook it, I raised the other one to shoulder height, palm up. “So, anything anyone maybe wants to…oh, I don’t know…fill me in on? Because I’m kinda absofuckingloutely clueless right about now. Either that or I’ve gone completely loco. Or I’m still on the plane and dreaming all this. Perhaps all of the above?”

No one spoke for several moments, all pondering how it was possible that I didn’t know whatever it was they weren’t telling me. Luke cleared his throat and took the plunge.

“Well…wow, I really can’t believe we were all so neglectful and never bothered to discuss any of this…”

I snorted. “In all honesty, I’m having a mild panic attack over what ELSE you may have omitted.” Phaedra laughed and released my hand.

Luke blushed, then continued. “The long and the short of it is this…Mum used to be an interior designer. She retired five years ago and took up painting and designing jewelry as hobbies in 2013 when she discovered that not being employed bored her senseless. Dad wasn’t too pleased at the amount of clutter it created, so she decided to look for space outside the family home to work in as interest in her creations grew. Simon and I were searching for a flat, and I was in the planning stages of going off on my own and starting Prosper, so we threw all our hats into the ring and found this place. It had been redone, mostly, with the flats all divided up but no rooms, kitchens or baths added and so forth. The former owner had run out of funds, so we got it at a bargain price. Simon and I finished off our flat and set up Prosper in flat two last fall, and Mum established her studio in flat one right after that.” He jerked a thumb in Tom’s direction. “He bought his portion right after we signed all the papers towards the end of May 2014 but didn’t actually move in until January of this year.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t really HOME until then, you wanker.”

I glanced at him, and when he met my gaze I knew what I’d been thinking was true…after hearing the date, it was obvious that he’d purchased this flat with something very specific in mind, something that had never come to fruition. Forcing myself to smile, I shrugged. “Well, at least I know where I work now.” I pointed at Luke. “This IS where I work, right? Because I’m totally psyched that my commute is two small flights of stairs and if you take that away from me after putting it out there I may be forced to tender my resignation effective immediately.”

Simon’s eyes widened, moving from me to Tom then back again. “Um, I’m sorry…did you just say your commute is two small flights of stairs? Is there anything YOU want to fill US in on, MAUDE?”

Turning to Tom, my face scrunched up, shoulders raised, I bit my lip then mouthed the words ‘oops, sorry’ before answering Simon’s query. Tom smirked, then leaned in to kiss the top of my head.

Simon’s arms were crossed, right bare foot tapping on the carpet. “WELL?! Come on, chickie, spill those beans.”

I froze, having not the slightest idea of how to convey what was such an incredible, life altering circumstance to us but possibly an ‘eh, so’ to anyone outside the relationship without sounding like I was a total moron. After several seemingly endless seconds, Tom came to the rescue, slipping his arm around my shoulders.

“After cohabitating for the past few weeks, I simply couldn’t imagine living apart from her. Thank my lucky stars, she feels the same way.”

My head bobbed up and down slowly, and I pointed a thumb in Tom’s direction. “Yeah. What he said.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “A simple ‘we’re moving in together’ would have done the trick, you know.” His face lit up, expression full of mischief. “You. Will. Be. My. Neighbor.” He closed the distance between us, hands on my shoulders, shaking me gently. “You’re right next DOOR and OHMYGOD SO CLOSE it’s like you’re moving in with ALL OF US. What’s that ancient American TV show? Three’s Company? We’ll be Four’s Company. I’m the pretty blonde one. Which is probably a given, but, you know. Best to be sure where things stand.”

Everyone laughed, and Luke reached for Simon, slipping his arm around his waist and pulling him away from me. “You’ll see everything tomorrow. Just come down whenever you’re ready…I’m guessing it won’t be first thing because it’s incredibly late and you’re on New York time still, plus I’m sure Tom is dying to show you your flat.”

Simon giggled. “I’m sure that’s not ALL he’s dying to show her.”

Phaedra grabbed his upper arm, giggling right along with him. “Si-mon you are so very, very BAD.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “That’s why you love me, old lady.”

She grinned and kissed him back. “Oh it most certainly is, lovey. You’re going to be the best son-in-law a mother could ask for, and you and I will be the life of the party this New Year’s, won’t we?”

He nodded, then pointed at me. “Don’t forget about Maude. Why do you think she’s my maid of honor? There. Will. Be. KARAOKE!” I hadn’t realized how sloshed they all were until Simon raised his hands in the air and began singing ‘It’s Raining Men’ at top volume and Luke slapped his ass.

Phaedra turned around and embraced me quickly, then pulled back, her hands holding my forearms. “Welcome to the insanity, darling. Good to have you here.” She kissed Luke’s cheek, then Simon’s again, then hugged Tom once more. “I’m off…probably won’t be in the studio until after the show closes next week. See you all then.”

She went back into Luke and Simon’s flat, came back out with a giant canvas bag slung over one shoulder and a bright green leather purse across her torso, then headed for the stairs, waving as she disappeared from view.

Luke and Simon bid us goodnight, and as the door closed behind them I thought I heard Simon yell something about no one being able to catch him because he was the Gingerbread Man. Shaking my head, I turned to Tom. He was staring down at the grey carpet, hands in his pockets, raising his head and smiling shyly when he realized I was looking at him.

“You know, when you said you didn’t know where you worked when we were at the deli I meant to tell you but then Mark showed up and it slipped my mind completely until I saw Phaedra…”

I held up a hand as I closed the distance between us. “Don’t give it another thought. At least it was a pleasant surprise. If I really cared I would have pressed the issue, because you obviously would have known. It’s cool. Plus I really dig the neighbors…oh. Totally sorry about giving away the whole living together thing. Thanks for bailing me out. Everything I thought about saying sounded tres stupid.” I rested my forearms on his shoulders, hands behind his neck, leaning into him. “You okay?”

His arms wound round my waist, nodding slowly. “No worries, my love. Truth be told, I wasn’t certain how to announce such a thing, or if it was even necessary to do so. I’m glad it worked out this way. And yes, I’m okay. Thanks. Do you mind if I talk about it, though?”

“Nope. Of course not. Please do.”

“It was hard, moving in here. I dragged my feet as long as I could about everything…layout, finishes, appliances, you name it. Every decision felt like a heartbreaking departure from the one I’d thought I’d be making, you know? I considered selling it, but my being here made it so much simpler for Luke to get Prosper going, not having to worry that his tenant would interfere with his clients, or make them uncomfortable, that sort of thing. And it allows me to have a greater degree of privacy, so I didn’t sell. Then I thought I’d just keep it and live in my old place, but that was rife with unpleasant memories as well. My therapist told me to not forget about myself in all this, said to choose things that I’d enjoy living amongst. That I should look at it as an opportunity to get to know myself better, to feel comfortable in my own skin again. Anyway. That’s what I was contemplating during the process, and…well…I do think it helped me move forward. And I really am dying to show it to you. And for you to add a good bit of yourself to the mix so it’s…ours.” He rested his forehead against mine. “Would it be thoroughly uncouth to carry you over the threshold even though we aren’t married yet?”

My heart skipped a beat at the ‘yet’, but I decided to pretend I hadn’t heard it because just the thought of it was too much for me to handle. “Thomas, if you want to heft my ass through that door, I’m certainly not going to stop you. And, being that the tradition itself revolves around preventing evil spirts from cursing a couple as they begin their new lives together…us being us, can’t hurt, might help, am I right?”

He laughed as we released each other, then pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open, turning his head to look back at me, still grinning. “I’ll have you know that other than my mother, my sister and Phaedra you’re the only woman who’s ever been in here.”

“I’m not in THERE. I’m still out HERE.”

Before I finished the first word he was sweeping me up in his arms and just as I said ‘here’ he placed me gently on the honey oak plank floor. As I looked out into the open living and dining space my jaw dropped open…and when I turned my head left and caught sight of the kitchen, I gasped. Gorgeous simplicity, complex, yet graceful angles, everything elegant and masculine all at once…a quintessence of Tom.

Exterior brick comprised the left and windowed living area walls, a matte white paint on the right one and directly behind me. The brick extended into the kitchen as a backsplash and to the ceiling, and I knew it wasn’t the same as the genuine exterior but there was truly no way to spot the difference. The kitchen was rectangular, its opening directly left of the main entrance. Honey oak cabinets were topped with orange-coral tinted cement counters that coordinated perfectly with the tone of the bricks, both uppers and lowers bearing what appeared to be brushed chrome pulls that matched the refrigerator handles. All the appliances were retro-styled, white with chrome accents, and a snort escaped me when I recognized the Big Chill brand name…I’d considered them when redoing my own place but decided they were too expensive. Hands on my hips, I shot him a side-eyed glance, mocking him as I imitated his accent and repeated his comment on my fridge back in New York.

“Mine’s just white. Not fancy and shiny like this one.” Rolling my eyes, I resumed my own dialect. “You are SO full of shit. I totally checked out all the Big Chill stuff when I was remodeling and happen to know that fridge is like, three GRAND.”

Smirking, he shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands out to the side, palms up. “So you like them, then?”

“I didn’t when I saw them online…the Pro series is what I was interested in…but seeing them in person in this setting…I fucking LOVE them.” I stepped into the kitchen area and opened the refrigerator door. “Well, you were NOT full of shit about the contents. Ick.” After closing it quickly, I ran my hand down the countertop to the sink, stainless and deep, rotated right and fingered the dishwasher controls, then rotated right again, gasping once more as I looked up from the stove and noticed the two giant wooden columns that flanked the counter facing the living room. They held up a black metal I-beam, and two smaller wooden beams were attached on the inside of each column, near the top and set at an angle that created a crooked, inward turned Y effect. I walked back toward Tom, reaching out to touch one as I neared the end of the counter.

“Wow. These are fucking EPIC. How did I miss them initially?” Two matching bookshelf endcaps drew my attention away and I felt like the dog from Up, shifting quickly from one thing to another at the slightest distraction. “You have cookbooks, Thomas. Do you cook? I can’t remember if you mentioned it. I don’t cook. Well, I sort of cook. I can bake cookies and brownies and make meatballs and omelets but that’s pretty much the scope of my ability at this point…”

He grabbed my hips and leaned me back against the countertop. “I do cook. Not sure if I’m any good at it, but I’ve found it all to be perfectly edible. I’ll make you dinner tomorrow night, if you like. Maybe you’d like to make dessert?”

“As long as you’re willing to conduct a refresher course on using a gas stove I’m willing to give it a go. Though I’m pretty sure I make A better dessert than I MAKE a dessert. But, you know, whatever you prefer.”

He thrust against me, pinning me in place. “Both. I prefer both.”

“It’s a date then.” I wriggled away from him, pointing at the door across from the kitchen entrance, anxious to see everything else. “What’s in there?” I gimped past him and pulled down on the handle, opening the door outward, blinking when the light came on automatically.

The walls were starkly white, the floors a deep, dark walnut that was nearly black, matching the vanity cabinet to my right that held a white bowl sink atop it. The mirror frame was walnut as well, and to the far left of the room was a walnut pocket door that I assumed housed the toilet. Next to the vanity, in the far right front corner was a square freestanding shower enclosure, entirely transparent, the two front interior-facing sides slightly rounded. Across from the shower, on the back wall to the far right was a storage cabinet, a companion piece to the vanity, and right smack dab in front of me was…the tub. Not just a tub. A freestanding SOAKING tub. It was white, rectangular, with a sloping design so that the ends were higher than the middle. I walked over and turned on the faucet, listening to the sound as I examined the walnut-framed, poster-sized portrait of Shakespeare’s bust created from play titles, each twisted and turned to create an amazing likeness. To either side were two bookshelves that extended to the ends of the tub, centered to the middle of the portrait, holding what appeared to be every play mentioned on the poster. I turned off the water, walked to the pocket door and slid it aside. The toilet was white, oblong, with a tank top button flush. The walls were NOT white…they were papered with pages from books, all various passages from Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets, variegated shades of creams, tans and yellows dependent upon the age of the volume from which they’d came.

I sat on the bowl, lid down, then turned my head to face Tom as he stood in the bathroom doorway, resting with his forearms on the frame. “So. Exactly how many books were harmed during the creation of this masterpiece?”

He laughed and walked toward me, stopping just outside the water closet. “All page harvesting was conducted in the most humane fashion possible, I assure you.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “They were all from the local bookstores, yard and library sales, and I even stopped by a few schools to gather volumes that were already in unrepairable condition. I chose my favorite sonnets and scenes first…and, actually, that was all I needed to do as I ran out of room in there prior to reaching the bottom of the pile of pages I’d cut out.”

“Wow, THAT’S surprising.”

Shaking his head, he pointed his index finger at me. “I pasted those up one at a time. Took me two days, I’ll have you know.” All his fingers extended as he reached for me, taking my hand as I rose. “Here, look at this.”

Outside the water closet, against the wall and to my right as I exited, was a small bookshelf that reached my thighs, walnut like everything else in the room, full of Shakespeare’s works. Above the bookshelf hung theater programs, all of them from Shakespeare plays. Of course.

My breath caught in my chest when I looked up at him and saw the pure delight in his eyes.

“Were you in all of those?”

He nodded and pointed to one emblazoned with the Cambridge University logo. “I was. Yes. This one’s the oldest I have, Romeo and Juliet back in 2001. I was cast as Romeo.”

I bit my lip. “You were twenty?”

“Yes. Hard to believe it was so long ago that I was so young.”

“Do you have pictures or do I have to Google that shit? Because I need to see you at twenty, AND as Romeo. NEED.”

Chuckling, he began to lead me out of the bathroom. “Yes, somewhere I do. We’ll come across them as we rearrange to accommodate your things once they’re shipped over, I’m sure.” He paused and let go of my hand, turning to me, his expression serious, yet tentative. “We can change the décor in there, if you like.”

I smacked his arm. “Thomas. I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables.”

His eyes widened, mouth dropping open halfway. “What did you just say?”

“I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables.”

“That’s from Coriolanus. Menenius says it in Act Two, Scene One.”

“I knew it was from Coriolanus, but not any of the rest. Did you memorize the entire play, Thomas?”

His face scrunched up. “Well…” He blinked, then shook his head. “Why do you know that?”

“Why? Because Shakespearean insults are HILARIOUS, that’s why. And they totally go over most people’s heads, which makes it DOUBLY fun. There’s a really cool website that generates random ones and tells you what play they’re from. Usually. Guy’s name is Chris Seidel, the creator. How have you never seen it? Anyway. Shakespeare themed bathroom, you said what you said, and my LORD I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been waiting to work that into a conversation.”

“You like Shakespeare.” Said as a statement, with more than a little incredulity.

My eyes rolled so hard it made my head hurt momentarily. “Not as much as YOU do, but yes. Of course. How could anyone who enjoys literature NOT like Shakespeare? Though I will admit there are many plays I’ve yet to read. Hmm…which ones HAVE I read?” I ticked them off on my fingers as I spoke. “Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, Hamlet…those were all back in high school. Required reading. Then in Advanced Placement English my senior year we studied Julius Caesar in depth, and I read A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Tempest and The Taming of the Shrew on my own. Taming is the only one I’ve seen performed live…it’s my favorite. So far.”

Tom shook his head. “I didn’t see any of his works in your collection and assumed you weren’t interested.” He grinned. “You can repeat that quote now if you’d like. Even more applicable at this juncture, I’d wager.”

I shrugged. “Eh, I’m just brimming with generosity today so I’ll give you a pass this time. I used to have copies. And now I don’t have to replace them because I can just read yours.” He flinched, and I roared with laughter. “So it’s okay to keep them in a damp bathroom, but touching is not permitted? Someone needs to go back to kindergarten and re-learn sharing. And for once that someone isn’t ME.”

He held up a hand, palm towards me. “In my defense, no one has ever wanted to read my books before, so it’s an entirely unfamiliar concept. And the ones in the bathroom…those aren’t my GOOD copies, Maude. I’m not a barbarian, for fuck’s sake.” His false outrage made me laugh even harder, his façade crumbling as he followed suit soon after.

As our amusement died down to occasional snickers and snorts, I stepped around him and down into the living room, assuming that the kitchen and bathroom were elevated to make utility access easier. Another white door to my right demanded to be opened, even though I figured it was a storage closet based on its common wall with the bathroom. It was not. It was, however packed to capacity as if it were a storage closet, just enough space remaining for one body to sort of worm around its contents. As I peered in I made note of four mismatched bookcases, all filled, a beaten up beige two drawer filing cabinet, a printer/scanner/fax machine combo resting on a rickety typewriter table, and a wooden desk that was so ancient I couldn’t even begin to guess what color it was supposed to be, papers stacked and strewn everywhere across its surface. The office chair was brown leather, torn in spots with the stuffing coming out, one armrest patched with duct tape. Fan art, photos, letters and cards were pinned all around, which I honestly hadn’t expected, but was deeply moved by.

Tom was standing directly behind me as I turned around, surprise clearly evident on my face. His hands were in his jeans pockets, and he shrugged, smiling shyly. “That would be my study you’ve stumbled upon. It’s tiny, I know, but I had all of it out in the open at first and found I couldn’t focus as well as if I were tucked away somewhere, surrounded by things that remind me of where I’ve come from and how fortunate I am to be doing what I do.” His smile grew wider. “And let’s face facts, that monstrosity of a chair is a sight best left for my eyes only.”

Looking back into the study, I ran my hand across the well-worn headrest, then gazed back at him. “What I see is you, sitting in this throughout the years, poring over books and scripts, scouring the internet as you conducted research on upcoming projects, waiting for word as to whether you’d landed a part, sending out late night, sometimes tipsy Tweets…the evolution of you as an actor, and you as a person. Boy to man, maybe? It’s a chair that’s been your constant companion from college to the present, and you miss sitting in it when you’re gone. I don’t know. Totally talking out of my ass here, but that’s just what popped into my head.”

His bemused expression faded as both brows rose, and he stepped forward to run a thumb down the side of my face, fingers cupping my chin. “RADA, actually. But other than that, you’re spot on.” His lips met mine, tongue seeking entrance, connecting with mine, then pulling away. “It surprised you that I’ve saved items fans have given me.”

My head pivoted back and forth emphatically. “It wasn’t surprise, it was my ignorance showing. I’m ensconced in the digital world, and when I think of your fans I think of what’s online…tweets, blogs, photos with you, that kind of thing. Offline, that part hadn’t crossed my mind, but of course you’ve gotten letters, artwork, gifts, and lord knows what else sent to you or given to you in person at events and stuff. The impact that must have…kinda blew my mind. And that you’ve saved stuff and displayed it? Like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes this day.”

He laughed as I continued speaking.

“Can I…no, I have to ask…what’s it…how do you…fuck, I can’t even put it in the form of a question coherently, so maybe I answered it myself…no, wait, I have it…I guess…how…how does it make you FEEL? People reaching out to you in such a way? And how the fuck do you HANDLE it? Online is easy…you can just close the tab or turn off your device and POOF, it’s gone. But this is…real. So, how?”

His laughter ceased, growing introspective as he rubbed his neck with his right hand. More clavicle and hand porn that I did not need. “As far as how it feels, well, it runs the entire spectrum from exalting to exhausting. Handling it…the most difficult aspect, for me…and I’m NOT complaining, not about ANY of it, because it’s part of my job as an actor and without fans there’s no audience for the work, which renders what I do meaningless, essentially…is when people say things like ‘you changed my life’ or ‘you saved my life’. That’s…it’s HUGE, and I’m always careful to remember that not everyone, especially in a moment wherein they’re interacting with, be it in person or on paper, someone whose work they admire, has the ability to convey what they mean by those statements in any other way than how they’ve already phrased it. It’s not literal, by any stretch. Obviously. And I always make it a point to stress that THEY did those things for themselves, and that if the work was a catalyst for personal growth and change I’m honored and humbled but they deserve all the credit, because that’s the truth. It has nothing whatsoever to do with me, the real me. Most of the time I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, Maude, never mind having wisdom to impart upon the masses. The first time a fan showed me a tattoo of a quote from an interview I’d done…that’s some daunting shit, let me tell you. Hard to maintain the public persona at times like that, largely because inside I always feel unworthy, I suppose…but if it slips, I just remind myself that as long as I’m kind, all will be well.”

I tilted my head to the left. “I’m guessing that’s where ‘exhausting’ comes in.”

He nodded. “Yes. Over the past year it’s been especially…challenging. The way we present ourselves is often carefully crafted to mask all the turbulence beneath the surface, which has always fascinated me and something I draw upon when I’m working, and now I’ve…lived it. It IS exhausting. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.” He took my hand, pressing my palm to his lips briefly. “But I do believe that’s behind me, my love. So. Anyway. The exalting part…that’s when it’s clearly about the work, when someone has been impacted so strongly that they feel compelled to confer their thoughts, their feelings, their opinions…and whether that’s via a letter, artwork, over a handshake or photo at an event…it means they’ve shared the experience with me, related to a storyline or character in such a fashion that they feel connected to the world beyond their inner machinations, and that’s what it’s all about. That’s the stuff I save.”

“Damn. And here I thought an uproarious round of applause after a lecture was the bomb.”

He chuckled and pulled me towards the living area. “Come on, woman. Finish your tour. It’s exceedingly late.”

“Do you have somewhere you need to be, Thomas?”

His eyes narrowed into slits, a wicked grin forming, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Oh, yes. I most certainly do, Maude.”

Lowering my chin to my chest, I sighed heavily, then raised my head to examine the remainder of the first floor. To my left, in front of the kitchen counter and wooden beams, was a large plank dining table, the wood a few shades darker than the honey oak of the cabinets. In the center was a shallow, brushed chrome bowl containing loose change, keys, and a copy of ‘Freedom’ by Johnathan Franzen, whom I’d heard of but never read. To either side of the bowl were iron-finished votive holders, three candles in each. The chairs had white plastic seats and backs, all in a single piece, shaped like a butterfly bandage, narrow at the fastening point, expanding out in a rounded triangular form at the top of the back and front of the seat itself. The legs, like the cabinet hardware, were chrome. On the brick wall, centered to align with the table, was what appeared to be an original Jurassic Park theater poster, something scrawled in the red circular area near the T-Rex’s mouth.

I pointed at it incredulously. “Uh, is that, like, Steven Spielberg’s signature, dude?”

Tom grinned, face turning faintly pink. “It is. I bought the poster on eBay years ago. Took me until the last week on the War Horse set to summon up the intestinal fortitude to ask him to sign it for me. He was terribly amused.”

Patting his shoulder, I grinned as well. “Right now, somewhere out in this wide world, there’s an aspiring actor following your work who will one day bring their own bit of memorabilia to set for you to sign, you adorable man.”

I looked to my right as he stood speechless, and the huge gas fireplace caught my eye immediately. It was at least six feet long, four feet high and iron-finished to match the rafters. Hung directly above it was an 80” television, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“Fucking hell, Thomas…now THAT is a TV. Let’s stay up all night and watch stuff. Like, porn. Wait, I’d rather make my own porn. Never mind.”

He groaned as I continued to inventory the space. On either side of the TV were six massive bookshelves hanging as if suspended in space, honey oak colored planks eight feet in length, vertically centered in line with the TV and spaced eighteen inches or so apart, nearly reaching the rafters. A black metal rail ran across the top of the wall above them, with a ladder of the same material pushed all the way to the far right, hooked on the rail at the top, wheels on its bottom. Some of the shelves were full, others only halfway so, most of the empty space on either the very top and very bottom. Set back a good fourteen feet from the TV was a dark brown leather sofa with a mottled, weathered finish, high back, and what looked to be very comfortable cushions. I walked forward to test it out, stepping carefully between it and the matching armchairs situated diagonally off to either side. Two matching steamer trunks served as end tables, and as I bent for a closer look at them I noticed the rug. It was huge, at least fourteen feet across, extending what had to be eighteen feet from the base of the wall in front of the fireplace all the way back and underneath the couch, ending right in line with the iron legged, distressed wood plank console table. Clearly an antique, it was a sea of motifs in burnt sienna, ivory, and oxidized blue with a giant midnight blue Tree of Life design in its center. Forgetting about the couch, I walked to the wall, moved to the bottom center of the carpet and turned toward the couch, the direction in which the top of the tree pointed. Under it, at my feet, were animals…horses, leopards, and other exotic beasts, frolicking under beautifully spreading branches. I knelt down carefully, running my fingers over the interlocking arch border and everything else within my reach. Tom’s feet appeared in my line of sight, and I lifted my head to meet his gaze as he first towered over me, then squatted down.

“When we were filming the Night Manager in Marrakech, I saw this in a market shop. According to what I was able to discern from the proprietor, it dates back to 1910.” He pointed at the tree. “That’s the Tree of Life, and after everything that…happened, it just resonated with me. Feeling part of a bigger picture than what I was experiencing and all that, I guess. In Persian mythology, it’s called Gaokerena, a giant Haoma plant that conveyed healing properties to the living and eternal life to the resurrected dead when ingested, and its juice was thought to grant immortality to anyone who partook in drinking it.”

I nodded. “The Tree of Life theme factors into nearly every religion in one aspect or another. My favorite is from the Iroquois…they have this myth as to how the earth was formed, The World on the Turtle’s Back. Their Tree of Life itself could be found only in heaven, where they believed the original humans lived, until a pregnant woman fell from there and landed in an infinite sea. A giant turtle came along, saved her from drowning and she used a piece of bark from the Tree to form our world on its back. Stephen King alludes to it in the Dark Tower series. Maturin is one of the Guardians of the Beams that hold the Tower up…he’s a giant turtle, and there’s a line in there somewhere about him being the oldest thing anyone could ever imagine.”

Tom extended his hand to me, his eyes alight with wonder, the desire lurking just below the surface revealed by the set of his jaw. “Come upstairs with me, won’t you?”

A devilish smirk played upon my lips as I took his hand and rose slowly. “Intellectually stimulating conversation about ancient creation mythos gets you going, does it?”

“You, Maude. You get me going. Now let’s…get going.”

To my left were two giant windows, photos and posters and other items hung between them that I didn’t stop to see. A wing-back brown leather chair and ottoman rested in front of each window, with floor lamp in between, an iron base and stand with a weathered ivory parchment shade on top. We neared the steps, located on the wall opposite the fireplace and behind his study, the bottom of them facing the windowed wall. The staircase was black metal, the steps themselves honey oak, all open to the living area. Tucked underneath were five stacked oriental-styled boxes, but it appeared the explanation of their origin would have to wait until another day.

At the top of the steps was a hallway, painted white, with a honey oak floor and two white doors on the right. Tom opened the one nearest us and led me inside. To my right was an open door that led to the bathroom, and he sighed as veered from his intended path and wandered inside. The flooring was a very light blonde wood, three walls painted matte white. Directly to my left was a wall-mounted vanity, made of wood the same shade as the floor, and as I reached out to touch the white quartz countertop I heard Tom mutter the word ‘damn’ under his breath.

He kissed my cheek quickly. “Continue with your tour of the loo…I’ve got to run downstairs. Be back in a jiff.”

“M’kay.” It was a single piece of the material, sink built in, and the way it sparkled in the light made me think of fairy dust, at which point I shook my head and berated myself for stringing the words ‘fairy dust’ together. “Maude. It’s a countertop. Not an imported treasure from Pixie Hollow. And why do you even KNOW what Pixie Hollow IS? Bleech.”

Three feet long, the vanity had one mock drawer and one real one, both with long silver handles that matched the faucet, which scared the shit out of me when I accidentally activated the sensor and it turned on. Next to it, on either side and set underneath the quartz slab, were two smaller wall-mounted cabinets, each with three drawers. Next to those were two tall cabinets, nearly reaching the ceiling, made of the light blonde wood as well, but with lightly-frosted glass doors that possessed a faint bluish hue. A white mirrored medicine cabinet in a modified cross shape was positioned directly above the sink, and my hand automatically rose up to open it because, that’s what you DO in someone’s bathroom you haven’t been in before. I stopped short, realizing that it was MY medicine cabinet now, and the urge to peek dissipated instantly.

Parallel to the vanity at the rear of the bathroom, perpendicular to the brick wall, was a huge shower enclosure, entirely made of the same lightly-frosted glass as the cabinet doors. I could make out the massager, which appeared to be on a slider to allow for height adjustment. Two shelves were nestled in each rear corner, but other than that it was wide open with plenty of room for two. Grinning, I turned to the window, three rectangular panels divided in two, a square on top and rectangle on the bottom. It was heavily frosted, permitting complete privacy without loss of light or the encumbrance of window dressings. Across from the shower was an alcove, which I assumed held the toilet, and I poked my head around the corner and let out a shriek.

“Holy shit, a bidet! This was the one thing I REALLY wanted to include when I remodeled but it wouldn’t fucking fit, no way no how.” I sat on the closed toilet lid, then reached over and turned it on, water shooting out and onto the hand I’d hovered in front of the jet. “SICK water pressure, Thomas. WOO HOO!”

The running water reminded me that I hadn’t peed since the plane, and I stood, lifted the toilet seat, pulled down my pants and sat happily. It was tankless, oval and ridiculously comfortable. Closing my eyes, I leaned back and rested my head against the wall, slipping away into a near meditative state until Tom cleared his throat loudly, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls.

“Dude, why? I’m glad I’m still on the bowl…otherwise I’d have pissed my pants. I was waiting for footsteps. I didn’t hear any footsteps.” I wiped, stood, yanked up my jeans and panties at the same time, flushed, then looked at him, one arm resting on the wall, feet bare, clad only in jeans and a white T-shirt, the blue sweater he’d had on all day MIA. He was silent, watching me as I washed my hands and dried them on a towel that hung on the rack across from the vanity. As I completed my task, he grabbed my shoulders gently, then guided me through the door and back into the bedroom.

The flooring was identical to that in the bathroom, I noted as we rotated right, navigating past a dark wooden dresser and towards the king size canopy bed. It was a modern take on canopy styling, essentially a four poster with an upper frame, the head of it up against the brick wall. There were no curtains attached to the dark, walnut-colored wood, only a headboard of deeply weathered horizontal bamboo stalks that extended all the way to the top. The total height was at least eight feet, with what looked like an eighteen inch mattress on an equally sized base. Six pillows in various sizes and shades of cream and light tan rested against the headboard, atop a cream-colored textured coverlet. Across the bottom was a blanket, the cotton middle off-white and the three inch linen border a dark tan. Two dark walnut nightstands flanked the bed, lamps on top of them both, single drawers underneath.

Tom continued to guide me forward, and as we neared the bed I could see around the corner into the longer part of the ‘L’ shape. Another window presided over the space, dead center on the brick wall, with a small, overstuffed, dark tan linen-covered couch on the same wall as the bed and three huge stained bamboo wood wardrobes opposite it. On either side of the couch were two ladder-style bookcases, dark walnut to match the bed. 

Before I could comment, he spun me around and pinned me up against one of the bottom bedposts, one hand holding the back of my neck as his mouth met mine, the other slipping underneath my baggy purple turtleneck sweater and sliding down my belly to the waistband of my jeans. They were men’s, ancient, and just sort of hung on me…the only pair of non-dress pants I owned with legs wide enough to fit over the boot that had become the bane of my existence. I knew what he’d find down yonder, and I smiled as he ran his tongue over my lips, causing him to pull back.

“What’s so amusing, Maude Gallagher?”

“Nothing, really. I’m just…happy.”

He growled, then froze after his fingers delved downward, then down some more past where my usual undergarments rested, and finally encountered a texture he’d almost certainly recognized. At least I hoped so, being that he’d picked the damn things out. His eyes met mine, hand that had been on my neck quickly joining his other to aid in unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans, his pupils dilating as I watched him tug at the fabric of the tiny black lace bikini bottoms from Agent Provocateur. Groaning, he pulled the hem of my sweater up to my shoulders, gazing down to find exactly what he’d expected…the black lace halter top through which my rock hard nipples were clearly visible. I lifted my arms as he moved the jumper upward, then off over my head after a brief struggle during which I was reminded of why I avoided turtlenecks. This one had been chosen because it was nice and roomy, handily camouflaging my more floppy than normal boobage, as well as the lace at the neck of the halter.

Cupping both breasts and thumbing my nipples, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “This is what was next to me for the entire duration of our flight? Good goddamn thing you kept it a secret, love, or you would have wound up with your face pressed to the bathroom wall as I fucked you from behind on the way over. Several times. Several.”

He lowered his head, tongue dragging over my lace-clad pebbled flesh, taking each nub in turn between his teeth through the fabric and shaking it back and forth like a dog with a bone. Sinking to his knees, his tongue journeyed south, down the middle of my stomach, swirling around my belly button, then descended further, swiping down the fabric and stopping just above my mound. He rose to his full height, face inches from mine.

“This mattress has yet to experience the pleasure of a woman’s body resting atop it, sinking into it, wet with sweat and her own juices, writhing back and forth as she comes over and over…shall we change that?”

I ran my hands underneath his T-shirt, pinching his nipples, then unbuttoning his jeans and undoing his zipper, erect cock springing free into my hand. “Y E fucking S, Thomas. Change it we shall.”

We both shimmied out of what remained of our clothes, me needing to sit down to get my jeans over the boot, him staying my hand when I got up to remove the panties. They buttoned along the seam of the crotch, and he ran his fingers along it, releasing each one as he worked his way back to the front.

“Maude, will you leave these on for me? May I fuck you that way?”

I nodded, panting, and his tongue was in my mouth before I could reply, the blanket tossed aside as we wriggled back and onto the bed, the head of his cock rubbing first against my clit, then sliding down between my lace-covered lips and inside me, fully sheathing himself in one uninterrupted motion, eyes rolling back in his head, biting his lip and whimpering as he always did when he initially hit bottom.

“Thomas, that little noise you make…every fucking time…it should be the sound that plays when someone clicks on the speaker icon when they want to hear the pronunciation of erotic. And titillating. And maybe insanity. Though that’s more what it CAUSES, I guess.”

He leaned down, nose rubbing against mine. “And what of that sound you make then, Maude?”

My left eyebrow rose as I shook my head. “I don’t make any sound.”

Nodding, he lifted himself up on his hands, smirking as he stared into my eyes. “Sounds, actually. Plural.”

“No way. I call bullshit.”

He chuckled, then sobered, tongue licking his lips before he spoke. “As the head of my cock enters you, you take the tiniest of breaths, a nearly inaudible sharp inhale. When it drags across your G-spot, your mouth forms an ‘O’ and you squeak-grunt, also nearly inaudible. The moment I’m fully inside, you exhale every bit of air remaining in your lungs and end with a single second of sound that echoes in my head every time I think about fucking you…it’s a moan, a whimper, a plea, an acceptance, a preview of what awaits me if I pleasure you properly.”

“IF? HA! IF!” Brow furrowed, lips in a thin line, I studied the beautiful face above me. “Do I really do that, or are you just messing with me? Because I totally never noticed.”

His hips circled as he pulled out, then slid back in. “Uh huh. You really do.” Out. “Every.” In. “Fucking.” Out. “Time.” In again, creating a slow, maddening rhythm. “As you so eloquently put it. And it drives me wild, Maude. Every fucking time.” He lowered himself to rest on his elbows, thrusting in earnest as I twined my legs with his, feet around the backs of his knees, one hand in his hair, the other stroking his chest, tongue running from beneath his ear, down his jaw, across his chin, then up the other side. He buried his face in my neck as I began gyrating against him, a well-placed fastener on the panties teasing my clit.

“Maude, my god, you’re always so eager.” His weight on me increased as he lifted his head and met my gaze, and I felt his hand work its way between us, two fingers first rubbing my clit then sliding into me beside his cock, said fingers remaining still as he continued thrusting. “OH GOD, OH FUCK, MAUDE FUCKING HELL, I can feel myself fucking you, my cock, your pussy, I feel it ALL…”

I unwound my legs, feet on the bed, knees up, and began bucking, slamming my hips into him, clenching down on his cock as I came, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, moaning and chanting his name. I felt him pause, cock twitching, as warmth began to flood inside me, and when he began thrusting his fingers in and out I came again, harder, as he gasped repeatedly at the all-encompassing sensation he was creating, the illusion that he was fucking both himself and me at the same time. Fully emptied, he moved his fingers in and out, slowly, finally withdrawing them and collapsing on top of me.

His arm lifted, hand moving toward my face, fingers that had just been inside me coming to rest upon my lips. I licked them, then grabbed onto his wrist as I took them in my mouth, sucking forecefully. He groaned, his entire body heaving in one enormous shudder, and I released his digits, snickering loudly.

Tom turned his head as it lay on my chest, peering at me with one eye. “Enlighten me, woman.”

My snickering ceased as I dissolved into giggles. “I’m just wondering if the mattress enjoyed itself, or if it’s going to get up and dive out the fucking window as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

He chuckled. “Ah. What has been seen, cannot be unseen. Or felt. Something.” He rolled off of me and sat up, fingers tracing the outline of my breasts, my biceps, ribs and belly, expression shifting from amused to concerned. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?’

I shook my head, hair catching on the coverlet beneath me. “Nuh-uh. Me likey. Mucho likey. I give you my permission to repeat it as often as you deem necessary.”

He smiled that thousand megawatt smile, then kissed the tip of my nose. “Why thank you, beautiful, intelligent, adorable creature who makes me the happiest man on the face of this earth. For me, it felt…I’ll never be able to explain it, I don’t think, but…nope, I’ve got nothing. Though I will say it’s probably akin to an out of body experience. You seem to have quite the knack for causing those.” Something flashed in his eyes, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, got up and began fumbling around in the pile of clothing on the floor. A white T-shirt plopped down next to me out of nowhere, and I stuffed it under my ass and sat up so I could see what the hell he was doing.

The jeans he’d been wearing dropped from his hands and back to the floor, and he knelt on the bed in front of me, left hand closed in a fist and extended toward me.

“I almost forgot…this is what I went downstairs for.” His other hand reached for my right one, pulled it in his direction, and I opened it automatically as the fingers of his left began to open. Something cool, smooth and round was placed in my hand, the size of a fifty-cent piece, with other objects attached to it, also cool but with jagged edges. “Your keys.”

The smooth round part was a keychain, appearing at first to be solid silver, but when I turned it over and saw the etching I gasped. “Jesus fucking christ, is that a Tree of Life?”

He nodded. “Also from Marrakech, but not the same shop as the rug. Bought them the same day, though.”

My gaze moved from a gleaming in-relief tree, the carved out area behind it painted black, to Tom’s face.

“Them?”

“Yes. Them. While I was standing in the market stall, something whispered in my ear and instructed me to purchase two, though I couldn’t fathom why I’d ever need more than one at the time. Now, I know. I added the other to my keyring tonight as well.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I closed my hand around the ornament and keys. “I’m not sure if I can handle any more of these cosmic coincidences, Hiddleston.” Brushing away the wetness with my free hand, I pondered the delightful absurdity of it all. “My boyfriend and I have matching keychains. A month ago that would have made me roll my eyes, and maybe even throw up in my mouth a little. But now I’m all giddy and weepy…dude, what have you DONE to me?”

He leaned in, fingers on my jaw as he placed a soft, chaste kiss upon my lips. “Loved you?”

Feigning an exasperated sigh, I poked his chest with the fist that held my newest treasure clasped within. “Stop that, Thomas. Stop that RIGHT NOW.”

Hopping off the bed, he reached for me, and I rose to stand beside him. “Come on, my love. Bathroom, then bed. Busy day ahead for you…new job, new office, making dessert without burning down the flat…”

I cut him off, letting go of his hand and tromping toward the bathroom, singing. “Yay, yay, yay yay yay…Imma gonna use the BIDET!”

It was nearly three AM before we finally settled in and drifted off, his head on my chest as I started up at the ceiling of my new home, surprised that it didn’t feel even the slightest bit strange or unfamiliar. Instead, it felt almost as if I’d been there all along.


	28. Chapter 28

TITLE OF STORY: Your Light in the Mist  
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 28  
AUTHOR: http://maevecurrywrites.tumblr.com/  
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom  
GENRE: Humor/Romance/Angst  
FIC SUMMARY: Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Mature for profanity, erotica.  
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Maude’s first day at the office. SIMON! NEW FACES! SNACKS! And a ton of description. If you want visuals, click HERE. Tom pays a visit to his therapist, and…well, I’m not going to spoil it for you. :P Hope you enjoy. Feedback is very, very appreciated. And feel free to ask questions about any of the characters. Thanks for reading!

The pleasant notes of Tom singing ‘Friday I’m In Love’ as he showered were suddenly eclipsed by a loud, incessant buzzing. Covering my ears with my hands, I sat straight up in bed, swung both legs over the side, stood and walked to the bathroom in lieu of screaming my query.

Upon catching sight of Tom’s spectacular ass, I forgot about the noise until I shook my head in awe of its perky, dimpled beauty and inadvertently dislodged my hands in the process. Cringing, I knocked on the glass enclosure as I spoke.

“Babe? Do you…”

The shower door cracked open, his shaving-cream covered face emerging from the steam. “That horrendous sound you’re hearing is, technically, our doorbell.”

“Like, the building doorbell or the flat doorbell?”

“Flat. The building version is more of an obnoxious electronic chime, which I normally have set to mute. My family knows to call when they’re close so I can watch the video feed and buzz them in.”

I hadn’t noticed any cameras outside last night, nor any screen near the door on the inside of the flat. Tom grinned impishly as I raised my index finger and opened my mouth, cutting me off before I could voice my observation.

“All of it, the control console as well as the video monitor, is hidden behind a sliding panel inside the flats. Ours is to the left of the door, looking at it from the within. The external cameras are mounted in the flower boxes, and there are four buttons for visitors to press, numbered for each flat, located to the right of the main entrance. System speakers, unfortunately, are wired in with the smoke detector and intruder alarms, so the sound is…everywhere.”

Resting my hand on my hip, I frowned as his gaze roamed over my nakedness. “So…one of our neighbors is responsible for this calamity, is what you’re saying?”

He nodded, extending a hand out to me. “I am. And in order for the sound to continue as it has, it means said neighbor hasn’t removed his finger from the button for even an instant and will most likely not cease and desist until someone answers the door.”

I took his hand, moving closer as my fingers felt for the pulse of his wrist, sighing. “Fucking Simon. Next time I know he’s hung over I’m returning the favor.”

Tom chuckled. “How can you be certain it’s Simon and not Luke?”

“Holding in the button until you’re given the attention you believe you deserve…Simon, through and through. Luke’s more of a buzz once or twice, then repeatedly as he grows increasingly annoyed when no one answers kind of person. I guess I should throw on some clothes and go see what he wants before I lose my hearing, eh?”

Releasing my hand, Tom nodded, bits of shaving cream sliding down his jaw and landing on the floor. “If you want a dressing gown, mine are in the wardrobe closest to the window, all the way to the left.”

Pausing, I considered commenting on ‘dressing gown’, but determined that stopping the buzzing was a priority action item. “Thanks. I’ll be back. Hopefully right back.”

I walked back into the bedroom, opened the wardrobe nearest the window and chose a fluffy navy blue robe, surprised that it actually wrapped around me fully. After tying it at the waist I peered down, shaking my head at how much of it dragged on the floor. “I am SO going to fucking kill myself in this thing.” Tom yelled out a ‘what?’ from the bathroom. I yelled back. “Nothing…just talking to myself. Again.”

Gathering the extra material in my left hand, I descended the steps with an abundance of caution, then quickened my pace as I crossed the living room and stepped up into the kitchen. Now that I knew the panel was there it was easy to spot, but I didn’t bother with it, opting to unlock and fling the door open instead. Simon stood before me, still pressing the call button, dressed in light blue skinny jeans, a pink polo with blue and white horizontal stripes and his white To Boot New York loafers, sans socks.

“Simon Ahlberg, if you don’t remove your finger from that button right now I’m going to tear it off and shove it…”

His grey eyes lit up, skin around them wrinkling slightly as he grinned from ear to ear. “Promises, promises, Maude.” Releasing the button with a sigh, he bent and picked up what appeared to be a picnic basket. “I prepared breakfast for my second favorite lovebirds. Sausage, egg, cheese and home fry burritos, sliced melon and strawberries with cream, and a container of orange juice. Oh, there’s some half and half in there for tea or coffee, too. Microwave each burrito for 25 seconds. Then get your ass to work, woman. It’s after ten and everyone is anxiously awaiting your debut.”

“Pressure I do not need, Simon. Christ. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had…co-workers? Hold me. I’m scared.” He laughed, and I reached out to take the basket from him. “So…dress code? Is what you’re wearing acceptable or do you just get away with it because you’re fucking the boss?”

One hand flew to his hip as it jutted out to the side, lips pouting at me, a finger wagging in my face. “Maude, you are SO RUDE.” We both tittered briefly, then he nodded. “Yes, it’s acceptable. We’re very casual. Luke’s opinion is that Prosper should focus more on the interpersonal relationships we form with clients than on maintaining a stuffy, uber professional atmosphere. When they turn up for an appointment, he wants them to feel free to do so in jogging pants if that’s how they’re most comfortable, since most spend a good part of their lives stuffed in what everyone else requires them to wear.”

I raised my hand in the air for a high five, which Simon reciprocated, then embraced me as best he could around the basket. Slipping one arm around him, I spoke near his ear. “Thanks for breakfast. And for your advice back on Kauai. Which I fully intended to follow but was derailed by Death. And for being so supportive during the last week in spite of the fact that I was an utter shit and didn’t call you as often as I should have.”

He squeezed me tighter, then pulled back, hands on my upper arms as he met my gaze. “You’re welcome. And forgiven. I’m glad things worked out. Nothing is ever perfect, and it all requires more work than you could fucking imagine, and a level of honesty that’s the very definition of brutality, but…it’s SO worth it, and you and Tom…you’re just…meant to be.” He smirked. “And the fact that the man has a cock that’s garnered its own hashtag can’t hurt…”

My left eyebrow shot up and I raised my index finger. “Actually, it hurts a little when…”

“No no no. I have to go back to work now. And watch some cat videos to erase the image you’ve just put in my head, you evil bitch.”

I laughed as he spun around and headed for the staircase, closed the door, then placed my newfound bounty on the kitchen counter and rifled through it, snagging the fruit and cream first before searching the cabinets for a plate. There were some up above the sink, white with two orange concentric circular stripes, a thin outer and thicker inner. The drawer next to the stove housed the silverware, plain stainless with sturdy handles that squared off at the ends. Using a tablespoon, I plopped a large dollop of cream on the plate first, then forked out some melon pieces and six strawberries, arranging them artfully inside the inner ring and impressing myself inordinately.

“Wow, send me off to compete on Chopped. Mad plating skills, Maude. MAD.”

After glancing back and forth from the dining table to the plate several times, I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be very mannerly of me to sit and eat without Tom. Sighing, I trucked up the stairs and into the master bedroom to find Tom standing naked in front of the open middle wardrobe. He turned to me, eyeing the dish in my hand.

“Glory hallelujah, is that FOOD?”

I dipped a strawberry in the cream and took a giant bite, nodding as I chewed. “Mmm hmm. Simon made us breakfast. Burritos are downstairs…”

Tom abandoned his clothing dilemma, strode over to me and grabbed a berry of his own, dipped it in the cream, then popped the entire thing in his mouth. “MMMMM.” Using his index finger, he helped himself to another swipe of cream, first licking it off, then sucking on the digit while smirking at me.

“Think you’re funny, do you, Hiddleston?” He nodded and reached for the plate again, frowning emphatically as I pulled it away from him. “No way. I’ve revoked your sharing privileges as a result of your inappropriate behavior. Go get your own, asshat.”

Shrugging, he walked around me and made for the door, then turned to me, grinning. “Oh. Right. I suppose I should put some clothes on.”

I lowered my chin to my chest, head shaking back and forth slowly. “Ya THINK?!”

****************************************

We sat across from each other as we ate, marveling at Simon’s ability to turn such simple ingredients into something that made us moan like whores. Which is an expression I could never really work out logistically…are only whores supposed to moan? Was I a whore because I moaned? Or was it a reference to faux moans ladies of the evening used to boost client ego and garner a larger sum at the end of the deed? I was about to ask Tom if he had any inkling as to the expression’s origin when his phone alarm went off.

“Shit, is it eleven already?” He checked the screen quickly. “Indeed it is. Sorry, love. I’ve got to get going. Will you be all right showering and such?”

He’d made an appointment with his therapist for eleven-thirty this morning as soon as we’d decided to fly in Sunday night. As I nodded our eyes met, and his betrayed his calm exterior. I rose and walked around the table to hug him tightly, the soft cotton weave of his green Henley pressed against my cheek.

“Don’t worry about me, Tom. I’ll be fine. And you’ll be fine. If you need anything, call, okay?”

He kissed my forehead. “Thanks. I will. Shall I stop at the market on the way home and pick up what we need for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll text you what I need after you leave, cool?”

“Cool. Will you see me to the door?”

“Try and stop me.”

He smiled as we released each other, and I took a moment to drink him in. Tight jeans below the Henley, hiking boots that were new to me on his feet, the outline of the phone through his pocket somehow strangely erotic. We walked to the door hand in hand, and after opening it he bent to kiss me, gently at first, then more forcefully as I grabbed the back of his neck. A string of saliva connected us for another second when he pulled away, and I chuckled.

“That should be SO gross, shouldn’t it? But it’s so NOT gross. Love truly is a many splendored thing.”

Laughing, he rested his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry I have to leave you on your first day. You’re going to do wonderfully well down below, Maude. Though I already regret not being able to see your face when you get a look at everything…”

My eyes widened. “Um…should I be excited or lock myself in the bathroom and refuse to go?”

He rubbed his nose against mine. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

I shoved him out the door. “That’s it, Hiddleston. Out. Go. Away with you.”

“See you soon, my love.”

“Not soon enough. I love you, Tom.”

“And I love you, my Maude.”

As he walked down the hall I began to close the door, shouting after him through the shrinking opening. “Just so you know, I’m saving the rest of the cream for LA-TER.”

He froze, let his chin fall to his chest as he shook his head, then raised a hand in my direction before continuing to the stairs. The door clicked shut, and I was alone.

“Okay, woman, show on the road time. First, clean.” I scraped the plates and placed them in the dishwasher, emptied our glasses and mugs and put them in as well, then put the remainder of the orange juice, half and half and cream in the fridge. There was a single burrito left, and though it was screaming my name I put it in there as well. “Lunch. Save it for lunch.”

Once the dish cycle started, I moved the picnic basket to the counter nearest the door so I’d remember to return it. Then, it was shower time. I sat on the bed upstairs, Tom’s robe in a heap on the floor, wondering what my ankle looked like, and if I could possibly shower without the boot this go-round.

“Probably better to take it off in the bathroom.” I looked around at the comfy bed linens, wishing I could have a little nap before I went downstairs, and reality chose that moment to bitch-slap me, along with dropping a side of crippling self-doubt into my lap for shits and giggles. I was in London, and this was home now. My mother was dead and buried. My ex-husband was sitting in a jail cell in New Orleans. The details of my past had made their way around the globe and back again, all out there in the wild for anyone to find. I’d abandoned a business that had taken years of my life to make a success. I’d fallen madly, completely in love with Tom, sharing with him every single piece of me, all in the space of twenty-two days…and he was now meeting with a therapist who would most likely wind up telling him that he’d rushed into this entirely too quickly for his own mental health and that he should pull way, way back immediately. Plus, HIS MOTHER. The panic began creeping in, heart pounding, my breath coming in rapid bursts. 

Bending at the waist, I hung my head down between my knees in an attempt to calm the fuck down, inhaling and exhaling to a count of ten each time. After twenty breaths, I sat back up.

“Maude. Questioning is normal. Feeling out of place is normal. One thing at a time, address it. Be rational.”

A few more breaths, then I began.

“Mother is dead. Even though you hated her and she was a terrible person, she did give birth to you and now she’s not here anymore. Which is, you know, GOOD. But also disturbing and sad, because it’s so…final. How could you not be conflicted? Ex-husband…if anyone wants to judge you based on the current behavior of someone you were involved with seventeen years ago, they’re an asshole and not worth your time. Heh. He’s in jail. That will never not be funny. In a very sick and twisted way, sure…but still funny.”

I stood and started pacing, annoyed at my jiggling flesh.

“Moving on. Let’s remember you’re the one who blabbed everything to the media. You answered their questions because you know that’s what SHOULD be done. Goose, gander. Client, you. And don’t forget about the outpouring of support. Amazing, compassionate people. Right.”

My pacing area grew wider, along the walls of the room.

“Business. You were bored. And miserable. You have enough money to live for a LOT of years even if you had NO job. Most people don’t. Nor do they have new opportunities handed to them out of the blue. Be grateful. London is a beautiful, vibrant city and, let’s face it, home is where you make it. Work is here. Having a boss will be weird. But it will be GOOD to not be responsible for EVERYTHING for a change. You’ll have time to live your LIFE. With TOM.”

I froze in place, breaking out into a cold sweat. “Will there BE a life with Tom after this fucking therapy appointment? Can I handle it if he decides we need to slow this down and back away from each other significantly so he can fully heal? The cause of his pain is fresher, raw, no longer in the passenger seat but still in the car, not way back on the highway, barely visible in the rearview mirror like yours. Maybe a relationship isn’t the best thing for him right now…oh, fuck ME.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, hands balled into fists, I fought the rising tide of overwhelming anxiety within me and tried to search for what was really causing the questioning, the doubt, the fear…and suddenly, the last thing on my list crossed my mind. His mother.

There it was, the one side of the phone conversation I’d heard in New Orleans. His mother, everything she’d been saying to him, based on his replies…all inexorably interwoven with what I’d been freaking out over. She didn’t approve of my being married before, thought Tom was being terribly foolish for jumping headlong into another serious relationship with someone he’d just met, and firmly believed that I had ulterior motives for being with him. Like money. Or fame. And if she’d seen footage from the day of the funeral, be it the press interviews or the kiss or all of it…how much lower had my stock gone down? Totally negative territory. Totally.

Opening my eyes, I resumed pacing, reducing my range to one side of the bed.

“Why do you CARE Maude? You never give a fuck what anyone thinks of you. Why does her opinion matter to you?”

I sat back down on the bed, climbed atop it and lay back. Our mingled scents soothed me, slowed my racing heart and mind.

“It matters because SHE matters. To HIM. Because she’s the woman who’s been a constant in his life. Because he respects her. Because he loves her. And I’m terrified of what will transpire if she isn’t able to respect ME. Like Tom not respecting me, either. And leaving me because he decides she’s right, about all of it.”

In large part, I was sure, my fear sprang from the well of inadequacy my mother had dug for me…long story short, if my OWN mother thought I was a worthless piece of shit, why would I expect someone else’s to feel differently? But Diana…I paused, realizing I hadn’t even dared to think her name before to the best of my recollection, she’d just been HIS MOTHER, all caps…wasn’t my mother. Not all mothers were horrible, were they? Anne didn’t fit into that mold. And since I’d yet to meet Diana, I couldn’t be certain as to whether or not she did. Either way, Tom had made it abundantly clear that she should trust his judgement and take the time to know me before coming down on a particular side of the fence. His confidence that she’d be able to make sense of it all and, perhaps, actually like me…I needed to have confidence in that as well.

Sighing heavily, I sat up again. “Maude, you are SO fucked up. But yay for figuring it out, right? She’s just a PERSON. Stop making her out to be some sort of deity that controls Tom’s life choices. Even if she hates you, he’ll still love you. Probably.” I snorted, then walked to the suitcases Tom had brought upstairs prior to taking his shower. After rooting through two of them, I found a cotton tunic, the body bright purple with lime green stitched seams, the cowl neck possessing a green base with a gradient to purple. All the pants I’d brought other than the ones I’d worn yesterday wouldn’t fit over the boot, so even if I couldn’t manage to shower without it I’d still have to take it off to get dressed. I chose another pair of men’s jeans that were more of a proper size, black cotton underwear and a black T-shirt material bra. The shoe debate hadn’t quite been resolved, so I held off on finding my socks for the moment.

All my toiletries were in my carryon, so I slung it over my shoulder, cradled the clothing in my arm and walked to the bathroom. Shampoo was placed in the shower, as well as my soap, and I made quick work of brushing my teeth as I double checked on the towel situation. Still one for me to use. Perfect. Giggling as I thought of the Seinfeld episode about Good Naked and Bad Naked, I pressed my boobs to my chest with my free hand and forearm so they wouldn’t hang in the sink when I spit.

“Okay. Here we go. Off with the boot.”

I sat on the toilet and undid the buckles, one at a time, and was puzzled at the lack of extreme pain. Once it was fully open, I closed my eyes and began to pull upward with my leg, foot sliding out of the boot slowly. There was pain, but it wasn’t FUCK ME FUCK THIS FUCK EVERYTHING pain. More like a bee sting. A really bad bee sting. Fine, MANY bee stings. But it was markedly better.

First one eye opened, then the other as I leaned forward to inspect my ankle. The swelling was nearly gone, and the bruises were much less angry. I lowered my foot to the floor tentatively, placing it flat on the floor first, then raising my heel a bit as I pushed up with my toes.

“SHI-HIT. Okay, no bending. Stick with flat.”

I stood, full weight on my left leg initially, then added a bit at a time to the right until I was pretty much standing on my own two feet. If I turned my right knee and foot outward and drag-stepped, I could walk, after a fashion. It hurt, but bearably so, and it felt spectacular to take a shower without a fucking garbage bag. The noise the spray had made when it hit it made me want to scream every single time…this, THIS was blissfully silent, except for my muffled scream when I forgot I was still injured and rotated the ankle in error.

I toweled off, put on my bra and shirt, then sat on the toilet to slip my underwear and jeans onto my legs. Putting the boot back on was far less pleasant than taking it off, mainly the shoving my heel down and into place part, but the sharp stabbing pain had faded to a dull throb by the time I was buckled back in. As I pulled my pant leg over the boot I decided today was a day for super-shiny gunmetal grey metallic Doc Martens. Or Doc Marten, as the case may be. I stood, yanked up my panties and jeans, buttoned and zipped, then walked to the mirror to check out my hair.

“Lord, woman. That’s just…wow.” It was still wet, even after my vigorous towel drying, and super frizzy. “Dare I brush you, mane of mine? Or should I just cut my losses and tame you with my elastic lasso?” I opted for the latter, breaking two hair ties before one managed to withstand the outward pressure of floof and kept it where I wanted it to be. No makeup, but I did dig out my black tourmaline necklace and bracelet, smiling softly as I considered how special both pieces were, but for very different reasons.

After one last look in the mirror, I grabbed my keys from the nightstand, my bag from the floor and walked downstairs. I’d just pulled the door shut behind me when I remembered that I needed to text Tom my ingredient list for dessert. Plopping down on the nearest bench, I fished my phone from my bag and turned it on. It was quarter to twelve.

“Wow, I am VERY late for work. Maybe if I sit here long enough Simon will bring me lunch, too.”

There was a message from Anne, which I ignored for the moment, and a text from Tom, sent six minutes ago.

Hey you. I’m in the waiting area here, office is running behind. Hope the shower went off without a hitch. Text me when you can. Love you. – T

Waiting to do something pleasant was irritating enough, waiting to do something unpleasant totally sucked. I knew what he’d be revealing to his therapist today, and, truthfully, unpleasant didn’t even come close to doing it justice.

Hello, my beautiful man. I’m so sorry they’re behind. Shower was A-OK. Ankle is healing. Soon we’ll be out and about dancing like fools. Just got done, heading downstairs now. Love you too. - M

 

Here’s what I need from the store: 4 sticks unsalted butter, flour, salt, brown sugar, eggs, vanilla extract, 12 ounces of semisweet chocolate, white chocolate - a bar is better but if all you can find are chips that will do, and toffee. Thanks. XOXO - M

I waited a bit to see if he’d reply, and was glad when he didn’t because it meant he wasn’t waiting any longer. The phone went back in the bag, left on just in case he had need of me. Walking to the far left steps, past Luke and Simon’s flat, I dawdled as much as I could during my descent. The door was wide open, faint strains of electronic dance music drifting out into the lobby. As I walked through it, my jaw dropped. The view was straight down a hallway, narrow at first, then opening wider and into a large room, awash in natural light, a huge sign on the wall, black background with white lettering that simply stated ‘prosper’ with an elongated triangle symbol above it. No wonder why he hadn’t wanted to budge on the website logo. The sides of the hallway were all white, steel and glass, what I assumed to be modular rooms, two thirds the height of the actual space and open to the ceiling, where gunmetal colored beams and ductwork hung out in the open. 

The door opened inward, blocking the view to my immediate left, so I cast my gaze right into what appeared to be the waiting area. Its walls were solid, though there were only three, two sides and a rear, all modular like the rest, sides painted a cream color and the back a dove grey that matched the carpeting. Two simple, cream colored sofas were centered on each side wall, both of them with an angled, high wooden extension jutting up from behind the back section. A beige flokati rug was centered in the middle of the space, with a very light blonde wooden coffee table atop it, as well as a mobile laptop station of the same wood, designed to move around the entire rectangle and settle wherever the user chose. Against the back wall was a low entertainment center console of the same light blonde wood, housing a rounded forty inch projection screen that displayed the same image that was on the laptop…fractal art in constant motion. Closest to me were two chairs, closely resembling a slot from an egg carton tipped thirty degrees backward. They were a very light, creamy pinkish-orange with desk chair sort of bottom, minus the wheels. A round-topped tiny end table in light blonde wood rested directly between them, and my body gravitated towards them, demanding to know how they’d feel to sit in. Heels clicking drew my attention away, and I stepped forward and turned left toward the direction of the sound. A lovely young woman with a modified pixie cut, hair longer in the front, shades of red, blonde and bronze almost obscuring her left eye, was striding towards me. Her makeup was very dark, rust colored and grey shadow, thick black liner above and below each eye, lips a matte pale rose pink. She was wearing dark purple skinny jeans, shiny black patent Mary Janes and an ancient, holey Nirvana T-shirt with the neck cut away. It hung off her left shoulder, exposing the white tank top underneath. She held out her hand as she drew closer, huge smile on her face. I reached out, accepting and shaking it, noting the incredibly cool silver ring in the shape of a snake eating its own tail on her right thumb.

“Hello, Maude! I’m Lyssa, Lyssa Barnes. Receptionist, Customer Service, Client Relations, and doer of all the other things no one else will go near with a ten foot pole. So lovely to meet you!” She released my hand and turned back to where she’d come from, a reception area with a wooden courtesy desk that matched the furniture in the waiting area, as did the shelves and cabinets behind it. The countertop was the same shade of orange as the chairs, and as I followed her I spotted a mini-fridge, a wine fridge, a hot plate, Keurig and Espresso machines, and a small sink. “I’ll buzz Luke and let him know you’re here…he’s in with Emma Watson at the moment, but they’re probably near done. Would you like a cuppa while you wait? Earl Grey is your jam, if I’m not mistaken. Oh.” She opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a bag of Lindor Truffles, grinning. “And maybe a handful of these to go with?”

A smirk spread across my lips, head bobbing in affirmation. “Wow, you’re GOOD.”

Her grin widened as she curtsied. “I try, I try. Huge part of what I do, knowing who likes what and how, even if they never, ever tell me so. Makes us stand out from the rest…we want turning up here to be like visiting an old friend.”

I leaned forward, peeking over the desktop. “So, what’s your secret to remembering it all? Giant Excel file? Hidden notebook?”

She laughed and tapped her temple. “Most of it’s up here, but I do have an Excel file just in case I drop off or something. Which I’m relying on more and more each day, what with the influx of new folks and all. I need more storage.”

“You and me both. I’ll pass on the tea, but I’ll happily take that bag of deliciousness off your hands, thanks.”

She handed it to me, then sat in her office chair, also the same color as the ones in the waiting area. “There you are. Make yourself at home. If you want to watch something on the screen, just let me know.”

I settled into one of the chairs I’d been admiring, which turned out to be one of the most comfortable things I’d ever nestled my ass into. Seven truffles later, I heard Luke’s voice and a woman’s laughter and stood up quickly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand just in case any chocolate was lurking about. A few moments later they came into view, and it was all I could to do not scream ‘Oh my god it’s Hermione!’ at poor Emma, who probably would prefer to not hear those words again, ever. Before I could say a blessed thing her arms were around me, then her lips kissing each check in turn.

“Maude, oh my goodness, I’ve heard so much about you and read so much about you and you and Tom in that Tumblr video…so absolutely adorable! SO wonderful to actually meet you! Tom’s just…he’s…well, YOU know what I mean and I’m so happy for him and for you and I have literally twenty questions I can’t wait to ask you about social media strategies for me and HeForShe. Speaking of which, we’re planning a benefit talent show for January and if you’re interesting in singing I’d LOVE to have you because you have such an amazing voice…” She turned to Luke and shook her head, then shifted her gaze back to me. “You know, he was just telling me that I need to cut back on the coffee or something because I never, ever shut up and here I am, not shutting up and you can’t even get a word in edgewise. I’m so, so sorry.”

Holding up one hand, I shook my head as well. “No worries, Emma. Happy to meet you too. And, I find your enthusiasm rather contagious.”

Luke snorted. “Much like the norovirus.”

Emma smacked his shoulder. “Shut UP.” She grabbed my upper arm gently. “I’m afraid I have to dash, but please do let me know about the benefit, and once Tom’s done hoarding all your talent we can get together, if you don’t mind, to go over social stuff. Talk to you soon!” She waved at Lyssa as she hurried out the door.

I grabbed another truffle from the bag and popped it into my mouth, then pointed at Luke. “You’re going to need to buy stock in these, man. It’s become glaringly apparent that I’ll be needing lots and LOTS of sugar in order to keep up with this crowd.”

“Seminar crowds a bit tamer, eh?”

“Hell yes. And now I know why…I’ve dealt with either them, or one client at a time. You, you’re dealing with SO MANY. They were vastly lower key because they were EXHAUSTED.”

Luke laughed and held out his arm for me to take. “Ready for your guided tour?”

Nodding, I accepted and we began walking down the hall. “I am, good sir. And I have to say, I’m beyond impressed just from seeing the waiting area and reception. Did you design all this? And of course my next question is how much did it COST? Because I’m nosy. And concerned for the company’s financial wellbeing. Even though it’s technically none of my business.”

Pausing, he turned to me, eyes alight in a way I’d only so far seen when he was speaking about Simon. “I did do most of the design, actually. I wanted it to be the polar opposite of where I’d worked before, and most other PR firms I’d encountered…old school, dark wood, boxed in offices, everything happening behind closed doors, antiquated technology, suits and ties, dresses and heels. Prosper’s modern. Transparent. State of the art. Comfortable.”

Smiling, I grasped his forearm, the softness of his dark grey sweater making me wish for a blanket of the same material, as well as a big chair, a good book and a fireplace. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, eh?”

He started off into the distance for a moment, then nodded. “I’m not sure who was more surprised at my propensity for interior design, honestly…my mother, or…ME. I’ve always enjoyed the company of artists, which is how and why I’m here right now, but didn’t think I had any sort of artistic ability other than dressing myself well. Maybe it was going out on my own, the fact that this would be mine, giving me a certain inexplicable vison…I don’t know. I DO know that I can’t wait for you to see the rest, though. And as far as our financial wellbeing…if you want to make that your business, I’m all for it, Maude. Actually, I’d be eternally grateful for any input you’re willing to give. You’ve got vastly more experience with that aspect of running things, and while I have Gavin, our accountant, I’m still doing all the budgetary planning and a bevy of other things I’m just learning about. We’re still so new that it’s quite confusing. Off the top of my head, I can say we don’t have much debt from startup. We own the flat outright, and paid for most of the remodeling out of pocket. Mum managed to get us some wicked discounts from former associates, so when all was said and done the flat and everything it contains came in at just under six hundred thousand pounds. We borrowed around two fifty to finish up and pay our expenses while things grow.”

His eyes met mine again, pointedly. “Just so you’re aware, because you’ll never hear it from him as he refuses to discuss it, Simon is much more than my personal assistant.” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively and Luke sighed. “It’s no wonder that he likes you so much. Lord help me, now there are TWO of you. Anyway. He’s really a silent partner…I could never have pulled this off without his capital investment. Not on this scale, at least. But he prefers to pretend to be just an employee, and I’d argue, but…exercise in futility. Which you might have guessed.”

I let go of Luke’s forearm, though he still held onto me. “Damn, he wasn’t joking about not having any time to spend his money, was he?”

Luke shook his head. “No, and fortunately I never had time to spend what I earned, nor the inheritance I received when my grandmother passed back in 2008. All right. On with it, eh?”

I nodded. “Yes, please. I’m near bursting with curiosity.”

He pointed to our left from my right side. “That’s the restroom, and the next door is the stairs. Which you may have guessed from the signage.” I chuckled as he pointed right to a blonde wood desk arrangement behind the glass. “That’s my office there…the entrance is down a bit.”

We stepped into the wider portion of the hallway, walked down a few feet, and he let go of my arm, stepped in front of me and opened a sliding glass door to my left.

“And this is YOUR office. It’s essentially identical to mine, other than the fact that I have additional space to accommodate a seating area.”

My brows knit together, head tilting as I stared at him. “Um, I have…an OFFICE?”

Luke grinned, his glasses rising up his nose as his ears rose. “People who have the word ‘director’, ‘officer’ or ‘assistant’ in their titles receive dedicated office space.” I glanced back and forth, then into the huge room in front of us, and he laughed. “That is NOT Simon’s office. Though he certainly campaigned for it heartily. He’s downstairs in his own little glass house so he can keep an eye on the staff. Which he seems to enjoy a great deal more than I would have expected. Perhaps, in fact, he enjoys it too much.”

“I, for one, am not surprised in the least. He’s so…bossy.”

We both giggled, and Luke stepped toward his own office. “Why don’t you take a look around while I ask Lyssa to order some pizzas from Il Baretto? We’ll all eat downstairs and you can meet everyone then. Margherita okay with you?”

Smirking, I nodded. “Yes. That’s mozzarella and tomato sauce. Otherwise known as…pizza. So I’m good. Thanks.”

He entered his office and walked in the opposite direction to his desk, and I stepped into mine. The carpet was the same dove grey as the waiting area, and the blonde desk grouping was centered directly across from the sliding door. All of the wall facing out to the hallway was glass, the other three sides white. The desk itself was off to the left, a half square shape, one piece jutting out five feet or so, perpendicular to the door, with the other half underneath the main portion of the arrangement. It was a large piece of furniture, approximately eight feet across, six feet high, and two feet deep. There were two end caps a foot wide with display shelving for books and such, two large open shelves, each two and a half feet long, right above the two foot high open corkboard space earmarked for the interior desk portion. To the right of the desk was a tall cabinet with two file drawers beneath, and directly next to them under the interior desk was another, with one small drawer and an open cubby above it. The chair was white, with grey and black accents and a silver wheeled base. Against the wall to the far left, in front of the outer desk, were two chairs that matched the design of the orange ones in the waiting area but were upholstered in white instead. To the far right was a kiosk, approximately six feet high, comprised of tubular stainless steel frame and base, white opaque privacy back, blonde wooden shelf with a video monitor and camera situated directly above it. In the middle of the shelf was a stainless steel cover, which I couldn’t help but open to see how they’d fit all the electronic components inside the small stainless bay hidden below. Luke’s voice startled me, and I damn near jumped out of my skin, slamming the little door shut with a clink.

“Knew you’d go right for that bit. It’s a media:scape kiosk, designed for videoconferencing and screen sharing. High definition, of course. And wireless, as long as you use this thing called a virtual PUCK, which is actually an app that allows you to broadcast any sort of content from your laptop or tablet to any media:scape display in the building.”

Turning to him, my jaw half open, I broke into a slow clap. “Luke Windsor, congratulations. You have out-teched me and are now officially my fucking HERO.” He grinned widely. “I didn’t even know this EXISTED. I mean, the laptop to screen, that’s been a thing forever, but this design, in an office setting wherein you’re constantly either away or dealing with clients who aren’t nearby in a geographical sense…fucking BRILLIANT. I’ll stop saying fuck now. It’s terribly unprofessional. And now I get why there’s no computer. You all use portable devices. How’s the budget look in regard to a new laptop for Miss Maude?”

Laughing, he waved me out into the hallway. “I think we can squeeze it in. And an iPad as well, if you’d like. The media:scape platform debuted in 2012, I believe, but the PUCK aspect is relatively new and not available in the United States, so I wouldn’t have expected you to encounter it. And it is brilliant…tomorrow I’ll set up a demo conference so you can see it in action. So much of what we do is virtual that it necessitates having this type of equipment, and keeping it current. Nothing makes you look more like a complete amateur than not being able to get your device to screen share, or having Skype freeze in the middle of a meeting with a brand new client.”

I grinned as we walked through the entrance of the large, open room, the glass doors already slid into place. “Ah, but that creates an opportunity to sweep in and save the day if you fix it quickly, and illustrate your exceptional problem solving skills, Luke. Yes to an iPad, by the way. Clean slate, just for Prosper stuff. Thanks.”

He raised both arms up, shoulder height and fully extended, as he stepped in front of me. “Welcome to the conference room.”

It ran the entire width of the flat, the original brick on the back wall, the modular walls white except for the windowed entrance area that bordered the hallway, carpet a dark grey. The two original building windows were identical to the ones in Tom’s…our flat. To my left was a lounge area with a sixty inch, wall mounted screen on the entrance side and opposite an L-shaped grouping of sofas identical to the ones in the waiting area, these upholstered in grey several shades lighter than the carpet. A blonde wood circular coffee table rested atop another flotaki rug, three foot in diameter with a round hole in the middle approximately a single foot in diameter. Two blonde rectangular end tables had been placed on either end of the grouping, two feet high, the centers carved out to create storage space under the surface, also rectangular. Directly between the windows, under the Prosper sign, was a blonde wood console table, suitable for buffets, floral arrangements and so forth. To my right was the conference table, a rectangular slab same wood as the rest, two planks serving as leg. Behind it, up against the wall, was a smaller wooden console that contained four under cabinets and cubby holes. The two-piece design chairs sported white trim around the edges of the grey mesh back and fabric seat, same shade as the sofas, with stainless bases. On the far right side wall, above the table space, was another media:scape display on a stainless frame, a whiteboard area on either side and small blonde wood shelves beneath.

As Luke pulled out one of the chairs for me to sit down, my phone chirped. I reached in to grab it as I lowered myself onto the seat, meeting his gaze. “Mind if I check this?”

He smiled as he set his own phone on the table top. “Not at all.”

 

Session bathroom break. If you’re in the middle of something, ignore this. Miss you, and can’t wait to taste those brownies. – T

 

Wow, so much for surprising you. :P Things going okay? – M

 

As well as could be expected, I’d say. He cleared the next appointment in case we go over the hour. How’s work? – T

 

The office ticks off all of my OCD design requirements and nerdgasm boxes so far. We’re waiting for pizzas to arrive and then it’s meet the rest of the staff time. If you need me, for anything, I’ll be right here, okay? –M

 

It’s a completely different experience, talking to him about…everything…and knowing I have you to come home to after it’s all over. It’s how I’m getting through it. I love you. – T

I bit my lip, attempting to keep myself from tearing up too badly.

Well, every reply I’ve typed sounded wrong and dumb so I’m just going to go with I love you too. – M

And, I’m considering baking naked. – M

 

Three minutes elapsed before he replied.

Woman, you slay me. In such incredibly delightful ways. Thank you. – T

 

You totally just jerked off in the bathroom, didn’t you? – M

 

I’ll never tell. – T

 

All right, fine. Yes. Yes I did. The entire time I was imagining licking brownie batter off your nipples, then lifting you up on to the counter and burying my face in that delectable pussy until the stove timer went off. – T

Lyssa poked her head in the door and announced that lunch had arrived as I tried to control the flush that was beginning to creep upward from my chest.

Why did I ask? WHY? Lunch is here and now I have to go meet these people and the entire time I’ll be thinking about your tongue. And your cock. – M

 

Eheheheh. Well, now that my work here is done I’d best head back…enjoy lunch, I’ll text you when I’m finished. With the session. The counseling session. XOXO – T

 

STAHP. Maybe they’ll just think I’m so old I’m having a hot flash. Which is preferable, frankly. Talk to you soon. XOXO – M

I followed Luke back to the stairwell door, then held it open for him and Lyssa, their hands full with three pizza boxes each. Simon was holding the bottom door for us, and when he saw me he began to chortle.

“Maude. Your shirt.”

I looked down, Lyssa and Luke turning right as they crossed the doorjamb. “What about my shirt?”

Simon took my arm as I stepped onto the blonde wood floor, turned us right and pointed forward. “YOU MATCH THE DÉCOR.”

In front of me was a white conference table, U-shaped, with a double media:scape display at the flat point. The chairs were white and grey trimmed, a gradient working from light to dark beginning at the bottom of the back, the cushions the same shade of green as the stitching and cowl of my top. To the left, up against the brick wall, was a long white set of cabinets with a countertop of glossy green composite material, again, the same shade as portions of my shirt. At the right end was a stainless steel fridge, and on the counter itself I noted a sink, hot plate, microwave and Keurig as Luke and Lyssa set the pizzas atop it. The far side of the room was a lounge area, four small, funky green sofas arranged in an L-shape, squared off sides and angled backs, resting atop a rug that matched the purple of my top perfectly. Accent pillows in the same purple were here and there, and each sofa had a small dining/work table in front of it, white legs with wide flat squares beneath them and a blonde wooden top. Against the brick wall was a small entertainment center, more blonde wood, with a forty inch screen above it.

Suppressing the urge to swear, I pinched Simon’s upper arm instead. “I DO MATCH THE DÉCOR. Lord help me.”

“Ouch, that bloody HURT.” He whispered in my ear. “I say bloody instead of fuck here. I abhor it. I let one slip now and then in hopes that they’ll hear it a few times and then be able to ignore it so I can go about using it freely. Though I don’t think anyone cares, but I’m…”

I whispered back. “Trying to be professional. I managed it for years, but since I got to know you and Luke outside of work before coming here, it’s not as cut and dried…well, actually, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe it’s really just that everything you do makes me want to spew forth endless streams of profanity.”

Another whisper, long and drawn out. “Fuuuuuuucccccckkkk YOUUUUUUU.”

We walked forward, but our progress was hampered by a small herd entering the space in front of us, then turning to stare at me. Luke walked over to stand by Simon’s side, then turned so he could see both us and the staff.

“Everyone, meet Maude Gallagher, our Social Media Director.” A chorus of hello, hi and how do you do greeted me, along with waves from all five of them.

“Maude, this is…everyone. I’ll start at your left and work my way right.” He pointed to a fellow of around twenty-five, five foot eight or so with long dark hair, almond-shaped deep brown eyes, dressed in skinny jeans and a blue Captain America T-shirt, navy blue tennis shoes on his feet. “Weng Middlesmith, full time PR Specialist. He came with me from the place that shall not be named.” He smiled and waved once again.

Next was a gorgeous curvy girl, same age as Weng, around five foot two, long artfully streaked blonde and brown hair, light brown eyes, dressed in black yoga pants, a long sleeved black stretchy top and pink ballerina flats that matched her lipstick. “Bridget Albansse, also full time PR Specialist, also came with me.” She nodded and reached out to shake my hand.

“These two are my part time PR Specialists, though over the next few weeks that’s going to change. Mainly thanks to you. Agnes Darby, Matthias Ellsworth.” Both of them were in their twenties as well, if I had to guess. Agnes was adorable, a few inches taller than me with curly dark red hair, green eyes, and light olive skin with a smattering of freckles, clad in a pair of jeggings, a white boat neck sweater and classic white Keds. She grinned and curtsied, and I knew we were going to get on just fine. Matthias was as tall as Tom, thin as a rail with skin the color of Café au lait, a Roman nose, dark brown eyes, beautifully full lips, a strong jaw and perfectly sculpted cheekbones. His hair was black, kinky-curly and styled in a very modified afro, strong eyebrows giving him a steadfast look. A black turtleneck accented his features, and was paired with white manpris and black loafers. A smile lit up his eyes as he extended his hand, then pulled mine up to his lips for a chaste kiss when I attempted to reciprocate.

Luke rolled his eyes. “And this is Gavin Hobbes, Accountant.” Gavin was five foot tenish, with a stout build, short brown hair parted low on the left side, a week’s worth of scruff and black-framed glasses, sort of the men’s version of a cat’s eye. He was dressed in baggy jeans, a white T-shirt emblazoned with an image of Monty Python’s Black Night that was captioned ‘’Tis but a scratch’ and a pair of well-worn brown leather Birkenstocks. He was the only one who spoke, and I was stunned by his Irish brogue as he kissed both my cheeks in turn, which in conjunction with his blue, blue eyes reminded me of my father just enough to stir a longing deep within me, for him to be alive again and part of my world.

“Maude Gallagher. Pleasure to meet you. Can’t understand why this lot…” He gestured to the other four with his thumb. “…is so bloody quiet. They’ve been driving me out of my gourd for the past week with their incessant warbling about your seminar, which was top notch, by the way, and all the questions they can’t wait to ask you.”

Agnes stomped her Ked on the floor playfully. “Gavin, you are SUCH a tit. It’s her first day, she doesn’t want to be barraged the moment she walks through the door.” She turned to me, smiling warmly. “Don’t mind him, Maude. He’s just cranky ‘cause he’s stuck doing maths all day long.”

Gavin huffed. “I’m stuck doing ‘maths’ because none of you are up to the task.” He grinned. “And because if I had to deal with what you all deal with on a regular basis I’d set up a cot in the corner of the Beehive Pub, never to be seen anywhere else ever again.”

When the laughter died down, I cleared my throat. “Just want to clarify…you’ve all seen my seminar?”

Luke nodded. “We watched it as a group last week. Twice.”

I whistled. “Damn, that’s an awful lot of…me.” My eyes moved from one of my new colleagues to the next, all the way down the line. “So. Questions. I can do questions. After pizza cool?” Four nods followed. “Good deal.”

They all wandered over to the counter to choose their poison, and I turned to Luke. “I’m assuming you paid for the seminar…let me know what the order number was and I’ll refund your money.” His mouth dropped open, but I beat him to the punch. “Ah ah ah…no arguing. Consider it a thank you for reminding me that it was, like, AVAILABLE for sale because I haven’t checked the order queue and good lord if anyone had an issue with downloading or something…”

Luke bit his lip, then smiled sheepishly. “I know you’re still technically Tom’s Social Media Manager and not officially Director yet, but that seems to be going well so it crossed my mind that perhaps while you’re in town you could wear both hats? And maybe a few more on top of those?”

I patted his shoulder gently. “No problemo. I’ll be your gal Friday. Though that’s just secretarial stuff, traditionally. Jack of all trades? I don’t like that either. Anyway. Feel free to use my abilities to your benefit in whatever capacity you deem fitting.” Preparing myself for a snarky comment from Simon, I found him to be MIA when I glanced around. “Where the hell did Simon go?”

A knocking drew my attention to a large glass enclosure, like the offices upstairs, but all windows except for the back wall. Dove grey carpet, a large white desk, six foot wide and five feet deep, perpendicular to the room’s sides, shelves on the front towards the door, another media:scape display on the back wall centered with the desk. Two white tower cabinets, two feet or so wide, were tucked into the rear room corners, large storage on top, file cabinets on the bottom. The chairs were matte stainless with purple top and bottom cushions, same shade as my shirt yet again, one on each side of the desk and facing each other. He waved when I spotted him, pizza box in his other hand. I grinned and headed his way, Luke muttering something about office harmony in my wake.

As I neared the entrance, the staff work area caught my eye. The entire right side of the downstairs was carpeted in a medium grey tone, patterned with lighter grey swirls that resembled flower petals. Three of the modular walls rested in front of the building’s walls, left side grey, the right whiteboard, with a large blonde wooden vertical inset in their centers, a large media:scape display on the right one, two small on the left. The long rear wall was grey as well, with a horizontal white board running across its center. Two four-person workstations had been placed off-center, the left directly up against the wall and under the two small displays, the right three feet or so over from thoes, leaving lecture room near the right whiteboard and large display. A blonde wood shelf hung to the right of the large display, and a purple upholstered…something…sat underneath. Miniature bench? Step? Footrest? I had no clue. The workstations were five feet long and four feet wide, white, rectangular with tubular bases. Each had four chairs, matte stainless bases, white trimmed seats, black stripes on the backs, theseat and back cushions upholstered in purple. Four laptops rested on the far left station, a single one and lots of papers on the right.

“Maude, stop gawking and get in here. This pizza is NOT going to eat itself.”

Simon and I sat at his desk, Luke joining us after grabbing a slice of some weird looking pizza with chicken on it, and the rest of the staff popped in and out. Midway through I’d gotten a text from Tom, letting me know that he’d finished with the therapist and was going to grab his own lunch and then head to the market. As if I knew where or what that was.

After we’d all finished, we adjourned to the work area, where I answered question after question. The kids, which, though it was downright ageist of me, was how I thought of them, all took copious notes, typing away as I spoke. They asked if I wouldn’t mind re-watching the seminar with them, and we covered an hour of material in the course of two and a half, pausing and discussing topics frequently. Before I knew it, it was four PM and apparently time for everyone to head home, except for Lyssa, who normally stayed until five Monday through Thursday and until seven on Fridays. Start time for PR and accounting was eight AM, and Lyssa was in by nine unless it was her late day, when she came in at eleven. Agnes, Weng, Bridget and Matthias were, however, expected to be available as needed even when they were off the clock, which apparently didn’t happen often unless Luke was out of town.

As I said goodnight and headed upstairs, I realized I hadn’t heard from Tom again. Figuring he’d come home and was waiting for me, I turned the key in the lock, calling his name as I pushed the door open. I received no response, but a quick scan of the flat found him sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Tossing my bag on the countertop as I passed by, I walked quickly towards him.

“Tom?”

He didn’t reply, but as I reached him he removed his hands and stared up at me, eyes red-rimmed and dull. The best description of his expression I could muster was ‘shell shocked’. I dropped down on the couch beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist. As he leaned into me, I tried to disguise the trepidation I knew my voice would project. It was a loaded question, one I wasn’t sure I wanted answered.

“What’s wrong?”

Reaching out to take my hand, he spoke slowly, obviously choosing his words very, very carefully.

“When I was in Waitrose…that’s the market, sorry…my phone went off. The number looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it so I let it go to voicemail.” He picked it up off the coffee table with his free hand, unlocked it and pressed play with his thumb.

It was a woman’s voice, British, crisp and clear with an undertone of haughtiness. “Hello, Tom. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you but didn’t have your number. I reached out to Diana last week, and she was kind enough to give it to me and let me know you’d be back in town today. We lunched at The Folly Saturday and had a lovely time.” A brief pause. “I…I was hoping we could get together and talk about everything. I miss you, Thomas. And I still love you. I know it’s been so long…and I didn’t realize quite how much until I saw you with that…that…woman. I regret not marrying you, and…well, you know what else. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about it, about what I’ve done and how I hurt you. And, I must admit, I thouroughly hate the idea of you settling for someone so far beneath your station, Thomas. So does Diana. Do give me a ring when you have a moment. Please. Speak with you soon.”

The phone was shaking furiously, as was the hand holding it. He swallowed several times, cleared his throat, met my gaze, his eyes full of grief and pain and horror, and even though I already knew I let him say it anyway.

“That…that was…” A deep breath. “Jane.”


	29. Chapter 29

TITLE OF STORY: Your Light in the Mist  
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 29  
AUTHOR: http://maevecurrywrites.tumblr.com/  
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom  
GENRE: Humor/Romance/Angst  
FIC SUMMARY: Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Mature for profanity, erotica. Trigger alert - Mentions of miscarriage  
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: So, here we have the aftermath of the phone call, part one. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is very, very appreciated, and THANK YOU for reading.

Visions of myself eviscerating the bitch with a gleaming, razor-edged katana momentarily clouded my thinking as Tom dropped his phone back onto the table with a thunk, then shifted his body about in order to face me, my hand slipping from his lower back to his thigh. I was not a woman prone to fits of rage, but if there ever was an appropriate point in time to flip tables, this was is. That, I knew, would make me feel better, but would likely have the opposite effect on Tom as he’d be so inclined as to think he was the reason for my fury. The table stayed where it belonged, but despite my best efforts, I squeezed his hand a bit too hard and was unable to keep my trap shut.

“Jesus mother fucking christ in a fucking sidecar, what a fucking CUNT that woman is.” He met my gaze, expression unreadable, and it occurred to me that he might think I meant his mother as opposed to Jane, which wasn’t a leap I yet felt qualified to make. “Jane. Not your mother. Jury’s still out for her. Conviction on a lesser charge remains a viable possibility.”

The corners of his mouth curled upward just the tiniest bit, hand that had held his phone reaching up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my lips before he leaned forward to kiss me, softly at first, then rougher, his tongue thrusting inside to meet mine. He pulled away suddenly, taking my other hand in his, an overwhelming earnestness in his eyes that was so powerful it took my breath away.

I wasn’t the only one, apparently. His words came forth in a single exhale, a deep sigh winding through the darkness of the woods, stirring the fireflies into action and setting the forest alight. “I love you.”

Smiling gingerly, I briefly pressed my lips to his cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s going through your mind. Don’t feel like you have to edit anything to spare my feelings. Just let it fly.”

His head tilted to the side. “You’re not angry with me.” A statement of fact, though he was obviously questioning why.

I shook my head. “No. Why would I be angry with you? I don’t see how any of this is your fault, Tom. Beyond your sphere of influence and control, all of it. Now that fuckwad douchecanoe…HER I’m angry with. After everything she put you through, how she made you feel, what she TOOK from you…I’ve got balls aplenty, this you know, but getting your number from your mother and not just CALLING but saying what she SAID…her balls must be so big she needs a cart to carry them around in. Either that or she’s certifiable. Anyway. I’m shutting up now. Your turn.”

Swallowing, he closed his eyes for a brief few seconds, the opened them. “Okay. What’s going through my mind. Well, first, the way I presented this to you, fucking hell…I played that with no warning whatsoever and didn’t consider how the content would affect you or what you might think or how you’d feel. I’m very sorry, Maude.”

“Don’t be. If I believed even in the slightest that you still have feelings for her I would have completely lost my shit, but I don’t so it’s fine. Please correct me if I’m wrong, though.” A tiny bubble of doubt threatened to burst and contaminate my entire cranial biosphere.

His head moved back and forth rapidly. “You’re not wrong. The only feelings I harbor for her are…I probably shouldn’t voice them, truthfully. And I have absolutely NO intention of calling her. Or seeing her. Ever. I know full well what she is, and exactly what she’s trying to do. Hearing her voice threw me, I’ll readily admit that. For about a half an hour everything she said…that day…repeated in my head and I had a bit of breakdown…” The look on my face must have clued him in to what I was thinking. “I knew you’d be home soon. That’s why I didn’t call or text. And I didn’t want to upset you at work, on your first day no less. Anyway. After I sorted that bit out, it was on to Mum.” His voice broke, and I squeezed his hands as he inhaled sharply, exhaled deeply, then continued. “I’m crushed, Maude. Absolutely crushed. And I’m so sorry she did what she did and said what she said…the part about you being beneath my station…god how I want to SCREAM at her…but, since Jane is essentially a pathological liar, I can’t be certain she DID say it, so…and here’s where the ‘my fault’ part comes into play, Maude. All I ever told her about the breakup was that Jane said no to my proposal and that I couldn’t in good conscience remain in a relationship after such a rejection, with no clear path forward. That’s all. She hasn’t a clue as to what really happened. If she had, would she have given out my number? Would she have gone to LUNCH with Jane? I’d hope not, but there’s only one way to find out. I have to talk to her. And I have to TELL her. All of it. Including the fact that I know my father was unfaithful. And about my drinking. And about…Claudia. If there’s one concept I’ve firmly grasped over the past few weeks, it’s that without honesty, no relationship is ever…real. Perhaps she’ll learn from my example…inexcusably long delayed as it is…that you don’t have to keep secrets from the people you love. You don’t have to hide your pain, that it’s possible to be free from shame. If she disowns me instead, so be it.”

I let go of his hands and leaned back on the couch. “Good fucking thing I’m sitting down, because that made me kinda feel like I’m going to pass out.”

He slid off the couch and knelt before me, between my legs, hands on my thighs, eyes deeply concerned and slightly confused. “Why?”

My head flopped back against the cushion for a moment, then lifted as I met his gaze. “Because, Thomas. My god. You are this…this…brave, gorgeous, glorious soul. And because…” I pointed at his phone. “That was totally not what I was expecting when I saw your face, and, as absurd as it may sound, I’m…relieved.”

Brow furrowed, he leaned in closer. “What was it you were expecting?”

I bit my lip and looked up at the ceiling, then down and back at him. “I had my own little freak out after you left this morning. Not to make this all about me or anything. But, yeah. Panic attack main course, self-doubt served up on the side. The causal agent, in part…how I was going to deal with it when you told me your therapist thought you’d gotten involved in a serious relationship entirely too soon, and proceeded within it at WAY too quick a pace, so much so that it has the potential to be detrimental to your mental health and that if you wanted to keep moving forward, to actually HEAL, you needed to slow things down. With me. Back away, that sort of thing. Maybe not be in a relationship. At all.”

He reached for my hands, which I’d unconsciously tucked under my arms. “We did discuss that, actually. It was an argument he lost in short order, mainly after I inquired as to how he’d ended up with the mother of the four incredibly lovely children in the photograph on his desk. It was June 12th, 1987, at a U2 concert in Wembley Stadium. He’d just come out of a relationship with his childhood sweetheart who’d cheated on him the entire time she was away at college but thought he should still marry her anyway. While entering the venue, he saw a beautiful young woman in distress, who upon closer inspection turned out to be his ex-fiancé’s former roommate. Her friends were supposed to meet her in the parking lot but she couldn’t find them, and as they were the ones holding her ticket, she couldn’t get inside. As fate would have it, he’d purchased his own tickets prior to his breakup, and was planning on selling the extra one if the opportunity arose. Instead, he invited her to join him.”

“Dude, come on.”

Tom smiled. “All true. At some point while relaying the details he began to tear up, and when he regained his composure he informed me that perhaps he should pay me today, then took a break to order her flowers and make a dinner reservation at the Dorchester.” 

Removing my hands from his, I patted both sides of his face. “No one can resist the Hiddescharm.”

“Oh, THAT one I like. Though I have grown quite fond of Hiddlesconda.”

I snickered. “Heh. That makes two of us.”

We sat for a moment, in the stillness, until he broke the silence. “He was very surprised that I’d told you about the pregnancy prior to revealing it to him. I believe it spoke volumes regarding the level of trust that’s between us.” His chin dropped to his chest for a few moments, then lifted. “I hated telling him about the night in San Diego…what I did, what I said. It felt like I was betraying your confidence the entire time, even though I knew I needed to be truthful and most of it was a rehashing of what I’d told him previously over the phone.”

It wasn’t pleasant, knowing that someone other than us knew the particulars of our exchange. But that’s how therapy works. Which is why I’d never been into it, most likely. I’d tried it. Twice. Both times it ended with the practitioner advising me that if I wasn’t going to vebalize anything, there wasn’t any way to help me work through whatever it was I wasn’t verbalizing. “It’s weird, not gonna lie. But that’s the point of having a therapist, right? Tell all, no judgement? If it’s helpful to you in even the smallest way, say whatever you need to, you know?”

He pushed up off the floor and sat next to me on the couch again, eyes staring into mine. “Thanks. I’ll see him again when I feel it’s necessary, but for now…I think I’d rather just talk with you.”

I laughed. “Oh honey, I don’t think you can afford me.”

He chuckled as well, and we slowly retreated into another reticent state.

Placing my hand on his knee, I dove back in. “So. What’s the plan, Stan? Are you going to hold off on confronting your mother until you have some time to…”

Shaking his head, he stood, and I followed, lest I wound up with a sore neck from craning up at him. “I’m thinking of going over there right now, actually. Even though it’s a bit of a hike.”

I placed a hand on his chest. “Well, I’m sorely disappointed that you won’t be cooking me dinner, but it won’t kill me to just order in or something. Or maybe I’ll just go beg the neighbors until they feed me. So, if you want to get it over with, I say go for it.”

The timorous way he placed his hand over mine, along with the pleading glance that accompanied it, clued me in as to what question would tumble out of his mouth next. I beat him to the punch. “Holy fuckamoley, you want me to come with you.”

He nodded, slowly, emphatically.

Plopping back down on the couch, I reached behind my head and tugged nervously on my ponytail. “Tom…I don’t know…I mean, are you sure you want me there? I’ll totally go if you do…that’s not the issue. What IS the issue is that I’m…me. And it’s been clearly established that she does not approve, man. Let’s not forget that I’m a blunt, tell it like it is loose cannon even in the best of times. She’s, like, your family. I do NOT want to fuck that up for you.”

He leaned over, grasped me by the elbows, my forearms resting upon his, and pulled me to my feet. “Maude, you’re my family, too. We’re a matched set. Two halves of a whole. If she can’t accept either of us for who we are…” Tears had begun to stream down his cheeks. “And it’s already fucked up. Aside from all the unknowns, it’s an indisputable fact that she gave Jane my phone number. Which means she wanted her to get in touch with me, though she was aware that our relationship was at a level wherein I’d decided to ask you to live with me. Her blatant disregard for that, my feelings, your feelings…I simply cannot condone it. I hope I can manage to forgive it. If that’s what family means to her, manipulation and judgement…is that something I need in my life? I love her, Maude. So much. I’ve always respected her, her opinions, her strength…this just…it’s…”

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his head to my chest, rocking him as he wept, his voice hoarse and muffled as he spoke between sobs.

“They were close, her and Jane. She loved Jane, thought she was the end all be all of possible mates for me. When I told her things were over between us, she was actually worried about how Jane was taking it. And she thought I was behaving impulsively and being incredibly foolish, letting such a good woman go just because she wasn’t ready to marry me…I believe her words were along the lines of ‘Thomas, you’re rushing into this and she’s not ready. Have some patience. Give her the time she needs. You couldn’t ask for a better partner. She’s worth the wait.’ And I couldn’t be angry with her, because she didn’t know. I just kept on pretending. She didn’t know I was dying inside.” 

Smoothing his hair, I kissed the top of his head as his sobbing escalated, rendering him unable to speak. “I’m sorry, baby. I know. I know. It’s okay. You’ll tell her, and she’ll understand. It’s okay.” I didn’t know if that was true, but it was what I hoped would happen, and what he needed to hear in order to walk out the flat door and face it all.

****************************************

He’d calmed down enough over the course of the next fifteen minutes to call Diana in order to make sure she was home. I could hear the delight in her voice when he said he’d be on his way over shortly, as soon as he got the car from the parking garage on Marylebone Road, located just a brief walk from York Street. There was no mention of me, which was an unexpected bright spot, as we’d decided if she asked he’d confirm I was coming along. This shifted it to a matter of don’t ask, don’t tell, which I was vastly more comfortable with. The dread I’d felt at the prospect of meeting her was still lurking under the surface, but my desire to support Tom as he’d supported me in New Orleans overrode the circuitry of fear. And, her bullshit had really pissed me off, which always gave me an extra boost of kickass bitchery.

Opting to take the Jaguar instead of public transportation seemed a better fit, since Oxford was nearly sixty miles away and the amount of time we’d be spending there was impossible to ascertain. Tom’s parking spot was on the second level, and when I saw the black F-Type Coupe I grabbed the sleeve of his Henley and shook it wildly.

“Can I drive? Please? Can I? Is it a STICK? It’s so PRETTY and I bet it’s so fucking FAST…shit.” I looked down at my walking boot. “I can’t drive anything. God. Damn. It.”

He chuckled. “I’d no idea you liked fast cars, Maude. Such a pity you’re incapacitated.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you. I’m not, like, INTO fast cars, per se, but I like going fast IN cars. And that one there screams GAS PEDAL FLOOR GO MAUDE GO.”

His chuckled transitioned into a loud burst of laughter. “Well, now you’re NEVER driving it.” He opened the driver side door for me, and then I remembered that this was England and thus it was actually the passenger side door. “Hmm, you thought for a moment I was going to let you try it out, didn’t you?”

I held my hand up to his face, palm towards him. “Shush up and let me sink into the butter-soft white leather interior, jerky.” And oh, it WAS. Everything was modern, tons of gadgetry, a large display…I would have sworn the seat reached out and embraced me as I pushed back into it. “Look at THAT, it IS a stick shift. Real rough life you have, Tom.”

He folded himself into the driver seat, all legs and arms and an inordinate amount of grace. My eyes roamed around the car, calculating if there was room to fuck. Possibly, but a feat for when I wasn’t wearing pants for sure. When I met his gaze he was smirking. “I’ll have you know I had to essentially hang out of a helicopter while appearing to calmly sip a cup of lukewarm tea in order to earn this particular reward. And we are definitely going to give it a whirl at some point.”

Shaking my head, I shrugged, pretending to be confused. “Give what a whirl?”

“Don’t play coy with me. I saw that look.”

“What look?”

“THE look. You were trying to figure out if there was room for us to go at it in here.”

I feigned innocence. “I was not.”

He reached over and cupped my right breast, thumbing the rock hard nipple he’d discovered through the fabric of my shirt and bra. “Liar.”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed his hand away and down onto the gearshift. “Fine. I’m a big fat liar who desperately wants to fuck you in the Jag. Happy? Now drive, Thomas. Christ.”

Our route was a nearly a straight shot, the A40 to the M40 which turned back into the A40, neither of which I’d had the pleasure of being on previously. I spent most of the ride staring out the window, trying to not be too much of a gawking tourist. The countryside as we passed through Buckinghamshire was a postcard come to life, as was Oxfordshire. Tom served as my guide, advising which town was which and pointing out landmarks of note. With another forty five minutes or so to go, my attention shifted to Jane, teeth grinding as I replayed her message in my head, dissecting it bit by bit.

“Tom?”

He reached over and rested his hand on my thigh, eyes moving from the road to my face for a few seconds. “Something on your mind, love?”

“That message. Cool if we talk about Jane?”

Nodding, he began sliding his hand up and down. “Definitely.”

I rotated my body sideways a smidge, the closest I could get to facing him. “You said you know exactly what she’s trying to do. And I think I do as well…it’s kind of obvious. Get you back. That’s the ‘what’. The thing I’m curious about is the WHY. Solely for her own gain, I’m sure. But what happened to Idris and all the mature fan base beneficial for her career bullshit? You’ve achieved a higher echelon of fame over the past year, and you have so many projects that’ll be released over the next, so those will boost you up even further, which she must find enticing, but in my opinion wider appeal means a more diverse fan base and, most likely, more of what she didn’t like about it in the first place. Is it I Saw the Light? Does she want to steer you in the direction of pursuing a musical career? I…you know I’m all about logic, and this is just so NOT….”

“Idris. I don’t think that panned out quite the way she expected. I saw him, after, when we shot some scenes for Age of Ultron.”

My mouth gaped open, left hand reaching out to slap the dash. “Fuck, seriously? God, I’m so sorry…how did you…what did…”

Shrugging, he removed his hand from my thigh in order to downshift. “I focused on being Loki and not being…Tom…for the better part of our time together. We did all go out for drinks the night before he left to go back to his stint in Ibiza, and after our tenth round of shots I asked him how she was, intent on instigating an altercation, chiefly because I hoped he’d kill me and put an end my misery. He didn’t remember her at first, until I described her as a record executive and referenced the event we’d attended. His reply, and I’m paraphrasing here, was ‘Oh, her. That’s one crazy bitch, Tommy. She said you’d broken up but were still going on your vacation together because it was non-refundable or some shit, where was it? Bora Bora? She came over to my place that night…a decent enough one-nighter that it turned into a fortnighter after she got back. Just a good time, you know? She thought it was more, though. Started calling me her boyfriend, making plans, acting all controlling…I ran in the opposite direction as fast as my size twelves could carry me, let me tell you. Woman stalked me for WEEKS afterward, Tommy. Constant texts, calls…finally had to block her. She even turned up at a few of my gigs. Totally mental. I’d thought about using her for my album, but after that, no fucking way. I’ve got enough lady problems, if you know what I’m saying. Heard she’s losing artists left and right lately, too. So that’s two bullets I dodged, mate.’ The rest of that night’s one big blur, though I do recall puking in the parking lot.”

I rested my head in my hands for a good minute, processing what their exchange must have done to him, then extended my hand and grasped his shoulder. “I am SO sorry for bringing her up. Like you aren’t upset enough as it is…oy.”

“Please don’t be sorry. If nothing else, relaying it makes me lean towards thinking that she duped my mother just like she has everyone else. Which makes me feel a tad less murderous.”

I snorted. “Well, I feel vastly MORE murderous. And I’m still sorry. What I said about her being a cunt? She’s an affront to cunts. I’m searching the database of my extensive vocabulary and I can’t find a word that…”

His shoulder began to shake in my grip and at first, I thought he’d begun to cry, but when I leaned forward to obtain a better view of his face I realized he was trying very, very hard not to laugh. Which made me start to giggle, which caused HIM to let the eheheheheh he’d been biting back spring free.

“Affront to cunts. Tremendous. Shakespearean, nearly.” He kissed me, fleetingly, eyes back on the road instantly. “Whether it’s your objective or not, you always manage to lighten the mood, my love. Thank you.”

Taking my hand off his shoulder, I relaxed back into my seat. “It’s my pleasure to entertain you, Thomas. Any chance there’s a McDonald’s around here or something?”

“Not here, but there is one up the line not far from my mother’s place. Want to stop there first?”

“Do they have hamburgers?”

“Are you joking?”

“I’m not from here, remember? And I’ve never been anywhere other than London. I have no idea how the rest of the country lives.”

“Did you notice the cows we’ve passed along the way?”

“I did.”

“Then it should be no surprise that McDonalds does indeed have hamburgers.”

“Okay, one, I don’t think they buy local. Two, they were all black and white.”

“So?”

“TOM, those are DAIRY cows.”

“I knew that.”

I patted his thigh. “Of course you did. Mmm, now I want a milkshake.”

“Knew that too.”

“That I actually believe.”

****************************************

I was still slurping said milkshake when we entered North Hinskey Village, turned right and traversed down a road of what I could only think to call country estates. Large pieces of property, elegant older homes, beautiful gardens. Tom turned left and onto a long driveway, up a slight hill, then parked in front a two-car garage, next to a white Range Rover. He frowned momentarily, then turned to me, smiling.

“Here we are. Where I grew up.”

The house was huge, the garage on the far right, that and the rest of the structure all light tan painted brick with black roofing tiles. I set my milkshake carefully in the cup holder as he came around to open my door, and we walked along the front of the house, past a small section that jutted out fifteen feet or so, then onto the covered porch with white double doors, windows to either side of them, eight rectangles framed in white. Most of the other windows were framed with wood, a medium toned oak. Tom rang the bell, his other hand entwined with mine, and we waited for the games to begin.

Almost immediately, the door swung open, and there she was, dressed in a light pink, long-sleeved button down shirt, khaki slacks, light pink Crocs on her feet. There was so much of Tom in her face it made me do a double take, and I wondered if his hair would turn that same shade of white as he aged. Hers was straight, though, styled in a modified bob that stopped just short of her chin. The expression she wore transitioned from overjoyed when she saw Tom to stunned when she noticed me next to him, then to annoyed, finally settling upon professionally detached. None of us spoke, and Tom had just let go of my hand and stepped forward to embrace his mother when a door slamming gave him pause. Footsteps sounded across the white tile foyer behind Diana, and a voice rang out, one that I recognized instantaneously as Tom grabbed hold of my hand once more, squeezing it tightly.

“Diana? Did I hear the doorbell? Is he here?” She appeared from the right and stopped next to Diana, taller than me and slender as a reed, straight, dark blonde hair hanging loose on her shoulders, clad in a light coral wrap around shirt, the tops of her ridiculously perky breasts bulging out of the V, tight white shorts that barely reached the middle of her darkly tanned, impossibly toned thighs, wedged espadrilles on her feet. A vision of those thighs wrapping around Tom’s waist wormed its way into my brain, partially erased by the feel of his breath in my ear as he whispered an apology. She came to an abrupt halt in front of us, smiling widely with her perfectly white teeth. “Hello, Thomas. I’m so happy you’re here. Wonderful to see you again…you grow more attractive with every passing moment, I’m beginning to think.” She turned her head, crossing her arms as she looked me up and down derisively. “And you must be…Maude.”

Channeling all of the righteous anger I felt into making her understand from the very start that I knew the truth of all she’d done to the man at my side, I replied without missing a beat, eyes narrowed, a devious smirk upon my lips. “And you must be Jane.” I leaned forward several inches, smirk all but gone, glaring. “Tom’s told me SO MUCH about you.” I’d over-emphasized the words ‘so much’ in such a way that they sounded capitalized, pausing between them for effect, smirk returning, widened, as I finished the sentence.

Diana stepped backward a foot, waving us in, but Tom remained in place as if rooted to the spot, only his head moving as he rotated it to face Jane. His voice was several octaves lower than normal, clipped, and tainted by an underlying fury.

“Why are you here?” Not leaving her an opportunity to answer, Tom turned his attention back to Diana, a finger pointing in Jane’s direction as he spoke. “Why is she here?”

Diana sighed. “Come inside and we’ll talk, Thomas. Please. Let’s not do this on the patio.”

Tom uprooted himself and took a single step forward towards her. “I asked you a question, Mum. Why the fuck is she here?”

“She’s here because I phoned her after we spoke to let her know you were coming up. I hadn’t the slightest idea you’d be bringing…her.” The tiniest of sneers curled her upper lip as she cast her gaze upon me. “Now will you please come inside? I don’t particularly want the neighbors knowing all my business.”

“Well I don’t particularly want to step foot in your house as long as she’s…” He gestured in Jane’s direction with his thumb. “…still in it, but I’m the sort of person who respects the wishes of others…unlike SOME people…so, fine. Inside it is.” He pulled me gently forward and to the left, leaving room for Diana to quickly close the doors.

She reached out and touched his arm, then pulled it away as if burned when she looked up at his face. “Tom, please, don’t be angry with me. She just wants to talk. You were together for a year. You were going to marry her. Give her a chance to tell you how she feels. Don’t you think you owe her at least that much?”

Tom let go of my hand, then moved to stand in front of me, left hand lifting my chin high. His lips met mine, tongue running over them, and I opened my mouth when he sought entrance. He pulled away as we grew breathless, speaking softly. “Maude, I’d like to apologize in advance for the behavior I’m about to display. And if the urge should strike you, do feel free to chime in, my love, my life.”

He turned around, leaving me with a view of his very tense back muscles as they rippled beneath his Henley until I shifted sideways so I could see past him. “I. Owe. Jane. Nothing. NOTHING. Not one fucking thing.” Gesturing in my direction with this thumb this time, he leaned in until his face was less than a foot from Diana’s. “Now. First off, ‘her’ has a name. It’s Maude. Please have the common courtesy to use it going forward. Second, whether you like it, approve of it, or whatEVER, I love her more than anything in this world, we’re together, and we’re going to remain as such no matter what schemes you concoct to make it otherwise. Love her, like her, dislike her or hate her…that’s your choice. I love you, Mum, but you CANNOT disrespect her again after this day if you want me to continue to be a part of your life. Is that clear?”

Diana stood motionless, still as a statue.

“I’m so upset, Mum. Downright devastated. I can’t believe that you’d stoop so low as give my number out to Jane, aiding and abetting someone like her, hoping you could get us back together because, due to reasons I, for the life of me, cannot fucking understand, you don’t approve of a woman you’ve never even MET.”

Her finger wagged in his face. “I may not have met her, but I’ve seen enough things online for me to safely say I know her TYPE, Thomas. She’ll ruin your reputation, your career…all of it. Everything you’ve worked so hard for. Nothing good will come of it, mark my words. She only wants you for what you can do for her, not because she cares for you. Now Jane, she LOVES you, Tom. She always has. The only reason she rejected your proposal was because she wasn’t quite ready. You rushed her, and even though she still wanted to be with you, you threw her away.”

The irony of her statements, how the very opposite was true, was not lost on me. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Jane smiling like the Cheshire cat, and I wanted to fuck her up in the worst way. Tom’s half bark, half sob laugh drew my attention away from her.

“Is that what she told you, then, Mum? How long has she been feeding you this line of shit, anyway? The entire time? She’s a fucking LIAR.” He spun and took three steps, putting himself right in front of Jane. “Would you care to tell her the real reason I proposed in such a hurry, or shall I do the honors?”

Jane’s face twisted into a mask of sorrow. “Oh Tom, please don’t. That’s our personal, private business. It’s too painful. I wanted to talk about it with you, about everything, but…not like this. I still love you, so much, but…I can’t bear it. I promise, I’ll leave you and her alone, just please…don’t.” She reached for his hand, and he exploded.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME. DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

Tom’s eyes were wild, and it was as if Loki had apparated into our midst. As he spun round to spill all to Diana, Jane slipped in under the wire, bleating out three words dripping with despair.

“I was pregnant.”

Diana’s face fell, jaw dropping open, her hand flying up to cover her mouth after she gasped loudly.

Tears had begun to slide slowly down Jane’s cheeks. “We found out a few weeks before we went to Bora Bora, and I was so happy, even though I was sick nearly the entire time. When we got back I felt even worse and rested at my place for almost two days straight. When I went to see Tom again, he surprised me with dinner, candles, and a ring. Dealing with the prospect of becoming a mum had already been weighing on me, and I wanted to wait a bit before making another huge decision. He said if I didn’t answer then, we were done. Then he kicked me out. I miscarried the very next day, and the doctor at the clinic…” She’d begun sobbing. “He said it was directly related to all the emotional stress.”

Diana moved to comfort her, mumbling ‘oh you poor, poor dear’ but Tom blocked her path, turning his back to her in order to face Jane again, his rage escalating, like a pot of water boiling over and sizzling as it washed over the stove burner.

“YOU FUCKING LYING, CHEATING, BITCH!” He was inches from her face, screaming. “TELL. HER. THE. TRUTH!”

She cowered, stepping backward, and Diana pushed herself in between them. “Thomas William Hiddleston, what is WRONG with you? Stop this, at once! How dare you treat her this way, after all she’s been through?”

His words came out in a growl. “After all SHE’S been through? Fuck that. Lies. All of it. Want to know how it really went, Mum? She was unfaithful to me. Twice. First with Ben, right after I left on the Dark World press tour, for which I stupidly forgave her, and then with Idris, right before we left for Bora Bora. While she was pregnant with my child. She laughed when I proposed and told me she’d never really loved me, not enough, anyway, to stay with me, because my fans were damaging her reputation. That our entire relationship was nothing more than a well calculated plan right from the start, because she thought dating me would be BENEFICIAL to her career. She let me think that we were starting a family together, that I was going to become a father, all because she didn’t want to miss out on a free trip to Bora Bora. She didn’t have a miscarriage, she had an ABORTION. One she’d arranged for the very day after we learned she was pregnant. I begged her not to do it, told her I’d raise the baby on my own, but she insisted on terminating because she didn’t think Idris would have her otherwise. And would you like to know how long their ‘relationship’ lasted? Two fucking weeks! TWO WEEKS! A life extinguished, for a fuckfest that lasted TWO WEEKS.” His voice cracked on the last word, and I knew he was fighting back a bevy of raw emotions, rage, sorrow, pain…too many, and too much. He flinched when I stepped forward and placed my hand on his lower back, then relaxed and pushed back against it.

Jane shook her head rapidly. “He’s the one who’s lying. He just doesn’t want Maude to know what kind of person he REALLY is.”

A little voice in my head whispered to me that she’d used a word that seemed out of place, and I hoped with some fancy footwork on my part I could trip her up. The time to chime in had come.

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘clinic’? Things must work differently here, I guess…when I miscarried, I had to go to the hospital emergency department. Not a clinic. Those are for STD screening, annual gynecological exams, birth control and…elective procedures. Never emergency care.”

Tom’s head pivoted towards me, eyes narrowed at first, widening as he cycled back through the conversation and realized what I was up to. “No, things are the same here. Exactly the same.”

Jane’s hands were balled into fists at her side. “I meant A&E. I misspoke. And it was my personal doctor that I saw a week later for a re-check who mentioned that stress was the cause.”

He turned back to her. “Is that so? Funny, that’s not where you directed me to go in order to leave a blood sample for our paternity test…you sent me to the BPAS Willesden.” Diana let out a small squeak. Jane’s sobbing had ceased, face now pale, a mask of calm that was betrayed by the furious fire in her eyes as he continued. “They said they’d have to send it out, but I do have a copy of the permission form I completed there. Which bears your signature as well, written with blue ink on the original. Their name and logo appears in the header, and it clearly indicates that three samples were being included for testing.”

I raised my hand, as If I were an overly curious school student. “What does BPAS stand for?

Surprisingly, it was Diana who answered me. “British Pregnancy Advisory Service. They’re a charity organization that provides affordable services to prevent or end unwanted pregnancies with contraception or by abortion.”

Jane pointed at Tom. “I did NOT have an abortion. I went to the BPAS the next day to have my sample done. They didn’t do it at A&E. That’s why I was there and when I signed. The baby’s was sent from the hospital.”

I whistled, low and long. “You are TENACIOUS, Jane, I’ll give you that. All the plotting and planning…christ in a sidecar…”

Diana, surprising me yet again, interrupted. “Which A&E, Jane? What was the date? The day?”

Jane’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as she desperately tried to fabricate the answers, but she hesitated just a moment too long for Diana’s taste. “I’ve had a miscarriage of my own, and those are questions that require no thought when answering. You remember, that and all of it. Always.” She glanced my way, and I gave her a single nod before speaking.

“Tulane Medical Center. September 21st, 1996. Saturday. Doctor confirmed it for me at 7:42 PM.”

Diana met my gaze, very briefly, then looked down at the floor. “John Radcliffe Hospital. 14th of May, 1984. I’d been carrying twins.” Tom’s back muscles clenched under my hand, and I knew he’d had no prior knowledge of her experience. Raising her eyes, chin set resolutely in a way I recognized all too well, she placed one hand on her hip and pointed the index finger of the other at Jane. “You. Out of my house, right this very second.”

Jane was fake-crying once more, delicate little hiccupping sobs. “It’s still so fresh for me, and I’m so upset I couldn’t think…”

Tom’s left hand reached out to me, and I let my right hand slip across his back, then entirely off, in order to grasp it. His voice was calm now, wistful, yet dripping with disdain as he stared down the woman who had tossed aside a miracle as if it were of no more consequence than the wrapping on a two-year-old’s birthday gift.

“19th of June, 2014. It was a Thursday. 11:37 AM.” He inhaled sharply. “That’s when you texted me those words…’it’s done’. Still have the whole message, by the way. On my old phone.”

As if someone had flipped a switch, Jane’s carefully constructed façade disappeared and what I saw in its place made me glad she hadn’t continued with the pregnancy, as awful as that may seem. She reminded me of my mother, and the thought of her parenting Tom’s child caused a bitter chill to work its way up and down my spine.

She turned on her heel, walked through the wood-framed opening into what I assumed was the kitchen, located directly opposite the front entrance, then grabbed a white Coach bag off the table and returned, striding past us toward the double doors. Stopping as she laid a hand on one of the pulls, she turned back, smirking.

“Oh well. Worth a try, you know? Who doesn’t want to be on the arm of a hot as fuck rising star, even if he’s an insecure, needy mama’s boy underneath it all? And, I must admit I’ve missed the incredible sex.” She shrugged. “But, I’m sure I can do better.” She pointed at me. “And Tom, if that’s what you’d rather have on your arm…” Another shrug. “All your loss, darling.”

A malicious grin spread across Tom’s face. “Oh, no, believe me, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s entirely my GAIN. I should thank you profusely for being such a vile, callous, lying scumbag. If you hadn’t done what you did, I would have never met Maude. She is unquestionably who I’d rather have on my arm. And in my bed. Lord, what she does to me…you were nothing more than an inflatable doll in comparison, darling. Artificial, cold, dry, silent…” He shuddered violently. “Looking back on our, erm, experiences…it leaves me, dare I say, feeling quite…deflated.”

I roared with laughter, raising my left hand to high-five him. “Someone better call the fire department because…THAT BURN!” Stepping forward, I leaned in as menacingly as I could muster, my eyes zeroing in on hers. “What you did to him…I don’t know how you live with yourself. Or how you sleep at night. Probably lots of expensive wine, I’d assume. Or maybe it doesn’t bother you at all. Not now, anyway. But when you’re an old woman, dying all alone because you’ve fucked over everyone you’ve ever met, hurt the people who actually cared about you…it is my fondest wish that in those moments, which go on for what I hope will seem like CENTURIES, that then, THEN it bothers you. That you regret everything. That you wish you could change it. That you’re terrified, the entire time right up until the very end, and just as you think you’ve found peace, at that point, you begin to see all their faces, one by one, over and over, even as the light dims and you take your last breath.” I stood up straight, left hand on my hip. “And be aware that in the event of a zombie apocalypse, I’ll be coming for your skinny ass. When I find you, and have no doubt that I will, I’m going to tear out your fucking heart with my bare hands and stomp it flat while you look on.”

She flung open the door and walk-jogged down the driveway, and Tom rested his chin on my shoulder, speaking quietly.

“But what about the Carnegie Deli cheesecake, Maude?”

I sighed heavily, touching my temple to his. “I guess now it’ll have to be my second stop.”


	30. Chapter 30

Tom turned me around to face him, wrapping his arms around my waist as I rested mine on his shoulders, hands linked behind his neck, biting my lip as I replayed what I’d said in my head.

“Whoops, that last bit may have been a smidge over the top. Sorry. Loose cannon in effect, y’all. Can’t say you weren’t warned.”

His left hand had begun drawing small circles on my lower back, a tired smile upon his lips. “No, it wasn’t. It was…Maude…I…I just…that you’d…I…sorry, I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking, really…” He paused. “You defended my honor. That’s the best I can come up with. I’m in awe of you, woman. Always.”

I shrugged. “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” As I was berating myself for using the word baby in any capacity after what we’d just begun discussing he began to sing ‘(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life’, only making it through the first four lines before we remembered that we weren’t alone. Removing my arms from his shoulders, I turned around to face Diana with him.

Her eyes roamed back and forth between us, settled on the floor, then rose up as she shook her head. “I’ve never been so ashamed of myself in all my days. How do I begin to make this right, if such a thing is even possible?”

Tom stepped forward and embraced her, briefly, then released her. “First, a proper introduction.” He extended his right arm in my direction, hand open and palm up. “Mum, this is Maude Gallagher.” His arm stretched across his body, hand now pointing at Diana. “Maude, Diana.”

We nodded at each other, neither of us speaking a word. I appreciated her expressing the fact that she knew she’d done something wrong, and that she wanted to make it right. I wanted it to BE right, but I felt like she needed to clear the air with Tom before anything transpired between us.

Tom placed a hand on her shoulder. “Listen. I can’t say I’m not angry with you still, because I am, but I believe talking it through is a good first step.” He took a deep breath. “There’s a lot to say, on my end, and you may not like what you hear, but…I have to say it. Have to.”

She put a hand over his. “I’m angry with myself, Tom, so it’s no surprise that you’d be as well. And you too, Maude. Whatever you wish to share, both of you, I’m ready to listen. And talk, as there are things I should tell you as well. Please, let’s go sit in the drawing room.”

We followed her as she turned to our left and down through the foyer, passing a staircase on the right, then entering a huge sitting room, painted white, floors the same as the foyer, windows on either end, two huge bookshelves to the left of a beautiful old wood-burning fireplace, a TV stand tucked near the corner on its right, three small couches arranged in front of it, one facing the fireplace and the others perpendicular to it. They were mismatched both in styling and color, two mint-green and one red, accent pillows of both tones placed here and there. Oriental rugs were behind all three, throws across the backs. Photos and artwork lined the walls, and a chandelier hung above the light pine coffee table. Tom and I sat next to each other on the red sofa, while Diana sat at the far right of the fireplace-facing mint green one after moving the pillows to the middle.

Tom leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “All right. You already know what happened with Jane…nothing there to really add. Here’s what happened, afterward.”

He spoke for the better part of a half an hour, stopping every now and then to gather his thoughts and rein in his emotions. I sat by his side, holding his hand when he reached for it, remaining close enough so our thighs and hips were always touching. Nothing was held back, not even what the final video contained. The detail, though, was kept at a minimum…he explained it simply as a BDSM experience taken to a level of violence which he would never condone while sober, and I cringed at the idea of having to divulge such a thing to a parent. Diana, however, didn’t even flinch.

I’d expected him to continue and tell her our story, including what had happened in San Diego, but he left it at the NDA and million dollar payout. Diana reached for his hand, and he grasped it in both of his. She looked my way, eyes on mine.

“You knew all this?” I nodded. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Tom, love, I’m so very sorry that not only wasn’t I there for you, but I’ve added to your pain. I understand why you didn’t feel like you could come to me…no thirty-four year old man ever wants to speak of such things to his mother, but I still wish I could have helped in even the tiniest of ways. And I’m very, very grateful you have someone in your life now that you can be so open and honest with. That is a blessing only bestowed on the few, I’m afraid.”

It was Tom’s turn to nod. “I know. And I know that you weren’t as fortunate in your relationship with Dad.” He swallowed. “And, I also know the real reason for your divorce.”

That made her flinch. She leaned back, her hand sliding from in between his, expression somewhere between confusion and dread, or a combination thereof. Suddenly, I felt as if I one hundred percent had no business being privy to the conversation that was about to occur and stood to excuse myself.

“I do believe I should give you both some privacy at this point. Is there a room that’s preferable for me to wait in? Or I can sit in the car…”

Diana looked up at me, shaking her head and motioning for me to return to my place on the couch. “Maude, please, sit down. You shouldn’t be excluded from this, as it pertains to you, in a way.” She smiled. “Plus, he’ll just tell you later anyway. Might as well hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

Tom had grabbed my wrist while I was speaking and was now tugging on it gently. I lowered myself back next to him, meeting his gaze as he leaned in to kiss my cheek.

First taking a deep breath, then clasping her hands tightly in her lap, Diana shifted her position in order to be able to achieve better eye contact with the both of us. “All right, Tom. Tell me what you think the reason for your father’s and my divorce was.”

His resolve waivered for a moment, hand running through his hair nervously. Nodding to himself, he voiced the words that had been haunting him for thirteen years. “He cheated on you with his personal assistant.”

Her jaw fell open, then closed, clenching defensively. “Who told you that? Him?”

Tom shook his head. “No. No one told me. Back in 2002, when I went to visit him for a weekend in Scotland…he went to town, and while he was gone I had need of some paper so I checked his desk. I found a bunch of letters. From her. Detailing how she confronted you, how happy she was that you were divorcing, how she wanted to marry him…I wanted to tell you I knew but I just…couldn’t. I’m sorry. But it made me respect and admire you even more than I already did, that you survived it and raised all of us, your strength…”

She laughed bitterly. “Don’t respect me too much, darling. She was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, as they say.” Turning my head towards him, I saw his eyes had widened, mouth partially open. She continued. “He was unfaithful from the moment we met, though I didn’t become aware of it until after you were born. I tolerated it, as it was just an occasional dalliance here and there, usually when he was travelling for work. I looked the other way, turned the other cheek, told myself that it was just how men behaved and that I was the one he’d chosen to have a family with and that was what mattered. When the assistant came up to me in the market and told me, so very loudly, that they’d been having an affair for two years…that, THAT I couldn’t live with, even though he said he didn’t love her. You were all older by then, and while the last thing I ever wanted was to break up our household, I had to ask myself…what example are you setting for your children if you don’t do something? Even if you kids never found out, I’d still know that I’d been weak and put up with your father treating me in a way I would never, ever want my children to be treated in their own relationships.”

Tears filled his eyes as he reached for her hand again. “Christ, Mum…”

She took it and squeezed, then let go. “There’s a bit more, Tom. Your father…I wasn’t his first wife, though he neglected to tell me so until a few months after we’d wed. Back in Scotland, when he was twenty, he married a woman he’d met at a Clan festival six months prior. Her name was Davina Calhoun. Tall, slender, hair the color of fire…an artist, and a singer.”

Tom interjected. “Davina Calhoun…I…I’ve heard of her. Or seen her name somewhere, maybe?”

Diana nodded. “Her artwork is very well known. Anyhow, their marriage lasted for three years. She left him because she decided that her spirit needed to be free from the chains of monogamy and that his plan for moving to England, having a career and a family were everything that the patriarchy used to suppress women, thus she wanted no part of it…keep in mind this was 1972, and both hippie culture and the concept of feminism was rapidly permeating every corner of the developed world. They divorced, he continued his studies, and after finishing up his degrees in 1976, he met my father at a cocktail party. Dad took a shine to him and determined he’d make a suitable husband for his should-have-been-married-already-rapidly-approaching-spinsterhood daughter. We were formally introduced a few weeks later, and that was it…game, set, and match. In hindsight, of course, I can clearly see that he chose to marry me not because of who I was, but because of where I came from and how my social status could further his career ambitions.”

My left hand settled on Tom’s thigh as I realized that had been the ‘pertains to you’ portion she’d mentioned, and her reasoning for being suspicious of me abruptly became glaringly apparent. She remained stoic, continuing without pause enough for either of us to speak.

“During the divorce, as I was packing his things, I came across several boxes that contained photos of his first wife, him, and years of correspondence he’d mailed her that had been returned to sender. A letter, every other month or so, the entire time we’d been married. I was tempted to read them, but thought better of it. Just knowing that he’d been reaching out to her and had been rejected time and time again…that was enough to provide me with the confidence I needed to finalize things. And, it also made me realize that I’d either stopped loving him or never really had, because, yes, it was painful to consider that he’d probably wished he’d been with her all those years instead of me, but it was nowhere near as painful as it SHOULD have been. Instead, I was…relieved, I suppose, that I didn’t have to pretend any longer.”

Tom rose and began pacing. “How did you…I mean, you…we did holidays, everything and the two of you were so…cordial. And still are. After I found out, I thought it was incredible then, but now…”

She shrugged. “We chose to be cordial. Well, actually, I told him if I was capable of being in the same room with him and not castrating him sans anesthesia there was no reason why he couldn’t treat me with the dignity and respect he’d withheld while we were together for your sakes.” I attempted to repress a snort, which if she’d heard, she ignored. “Tom, the thing of it is, I guess, is that even though he’s a philandering bastard, he’s still your father. Both of us made mistakes, but we also made three exceptionally creative and incredibly gifted children together. Children for whom I am so, so thankful for, every day. When you’re a parent, your own feelings must be set aside while you do what needs doing in order to ensure as much happiness and stability for your children as you possibly can, even in the worst sort of circumstances.”

Tom stopped in his tracks, twisting around to see her face. “Is that the reason you’re citing for your recent behavior? Your excuse? That you were just doing what needed to be done in order ensure my happiness and stability?”

Shaking her head vehemently, she rose from the sofa to stand before him. “No, Tom. Absolutely not. What I did was the exact opposite of that. I allowed my own feelings to interfere and become the singular motivational source for my actions. I’d like to tell myself otherwise, but it’s simply not true. The happiness I sought for you was nothing more than me projecting what I wish I’d had, and a quick-fix resolution of my fear that you’d wind up with exactly what I did have. And, as it turns out, I had it all backwards, turned round a full one hundred and eighty degrees.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and played Jane’s message for her. She sat back down, face gone pale. Tom remained standing, then pressed play again before returning to sit at my side. “I appreciate your acknowledging that, but the fact remains that even after I specifically asked you to hold your judgement until you met Maude and got to know her…there’s this.” He tipped his phone back and forth in his hand. “You went out to lunch with Jane, and, based on what I hear in that message, discussed Maude and came to the conclusion that she was ‘beneath my station’. Please, Mum…tell me this is just another instance of Jane twisting words to make her own truth and that you did not say or even infer such a thing. Please.”

Diana put her face in her hands. “She called me and said she was deeply concerned about things she’d seen and read online about Maude…that she wanted to reach out to you because she didn’t want you to be taken advantage of, or be hurt by someone like…” She paused, taking a deep breath as she uncovered her face. “I’d only seen the Daily Mail article, her in that racy bedroom photo and with that zombie show actor. That’s when I called you…but then Jane said there was much more and that she needed to explain it all to me, to show it to me. That’s why we met for lunch.”

Tom turned to me expectantly, and I shook my head to indicate that I had nothing to say at this point in the game. Diana continued, her gaze moving back and forth between us.

“What I saw…that video the two of you made, the innuendo, joking around and laughing when her mother wasn’t even buried yet…and then the snogging outside the funeral…I was just…just…appalled at how someone could be so disrespectful towards their parent. Jane showed me tweets and such, Maude abandoning her own company just so she could work with you only hours after you’d met…it struck me as terribly irresponsible and an impulsivity that’s illustrative of an unhealthy state of emotional wellbeing. What with her history of dating other celebrities I couldn’t help but believe she craved fame and was in desperate need of financial support so she rushed things along to get her hooks in you.”

My entire body tensed up as I again recalled Tom’s tirade in San Diego. His gasp told me he knew exactly what had crossed my mind, and he took my hand in his.

Diana shook her head. “Add to that the Sun article about her alcoholism and the perpetually unemployed ex-husband who still cared enough about her to show up at her mother’s funeral after so many years…no, Tom. It wasn’t Jane twisting the truth. Not this time. Those were my exact words. That I couldn’t believe you were settling for someone so far beneath your station. I’m so, so sorry. It’s just…Tom, Maude, I had no idea about Jane and…”

The Sun. Fan-fucking-tastic…I both wanted to read it straight away and never lay eyes on it as long as I lived. As for Diana, her not knowing what transpired between Tom and Jane had zero to do with the fact that she’d l totally jumped to conclusions about me, who I was, and stuffed me into a container labeled with words that were as far from an accurate depiction of my character as possible. Residual anger at my own mother, and every schmuck who’d underestimated me along the way, welled up inside me. Gently removing Tom’s hand from mine, I lifted it shoulder height, my arm bent at the elbow, palm up, fingers pointing towards Diana. “I don’t suppose she showed you any footage from the impromptu pre-funeral service press conference, did she?”

“No. I wasn’t aware there was one.”

My hand fell into my lap. “I thought not. May I be frank, Mrs. Hiddleston?”

She nodded. “Of course. And please, call me Diana.”

I nodded in return. “To begin with, though you may find it difficult to believe, I fully understand why you’d be inclined to not like me. I’m a complete stranger to you, someone you don’t know in any capacity other than what you’ve seen online or heard elsewhere, biased as those sources may be. Based on that, to you, I may be nothing more than an irresponsible, divorced, alcoholic wreck of a woman who made out with your son at her own mother’s funeral service. Which, I concede, was not the best choice and straddles the line of impropriety. Some would even say it was horribly disrespectful, but when one takes into account the fact that my mother cheated on my father with my then husband…well, honestly, I feel as if I demonstrated all the respect the situation required simply by showing up.”

She sat, silent and stone faced, while Tom fiddled with his hands next to me.

“Irresponsible is something that I have never been. Painfully to the contrary, most of the time, actually. I did NOT abandon my company for the sole purpose of working with Tom…in all honesty, he was the only factor that kept me from accepting Luke’s offer on the spot. My own venture had taken over every aspect of my life and I was bored, unmotivated, and just…done. After Tom and I discussed the matter, I felt confident it was the right thing for me to do, and I stand by that. Am I a wreck with a less than ideal state of emotional well-being? Of course, on occasion, but isn’t everyone? If someone answers that otherwise, one should question their truthfulness. Did I have a drinking problem? Absolutely. And I’m proud to say that I’ve been sober for seventeen years. As far as having been married before…it was the biggest mistake of my life, and I don’t even remember it happening because I was so intoxicated. It’s embarrassing, and something I regret very much. The divorce, however, is something I’m grateful for because it allowed me to move past my mistake. Having gone through one yourself and after providing us an account of the reasons behind it, I’d expect that makes sense to you, at least after a fashion. And as far as my ex-husband and his showing up at the funeral…that wasn’t because he cared about me. It was because he wanted money. When he found out he wasn’t getting any, he wasn’t exactly overjoyed and, long story short, as a result he committed burglary while brandishing a deadly weapon. Trust me, I won’t be writing love letters to him while he’s sitting his sorry ass in prison…I’ll be chuckling to myself at how awesome it is that he’s no longer loose in the world, free to mentally and physically abuse the women he takes advantage of for his own financial gain.”

Diana and Tom made the same jaw-clenching motion in unison, for very different reasons, I hoped. A hand on my lower back ensured my correctness.

“Now, let’s address the speed at which my relationship with Tom has progressed. Yes, it’s been fast. So fast, in fact, that trepidation on your part isn’t at all unreasonable. It’s scared the living shit out of ME several times over. Tom, too.” He nodded, a slight smirk playing upon his lips. “But, we aren’t teenagers. We’re both adults, in our thirties, and…why should we follow a timetable simply for the sake of conventional wisdom and social acceptability? What is it, exactly, that we should be waiting for? Every moment waiting is a moment wasted, and I’m all too aware that I’ve already wasted entirely too much of the time I’ve been given. I refuse to squander another second that I could be spending with the person I’ve already waited thirty- seven years for.” 

Tom’s hand moved to my waist, squeezing gently. Diana’s eyes glimmered with tears, and I stood to deliver the grand finale.

“I just want you to know, simply for the sake of clarity…for the record, so to speak, that there isn’t anything you can say or do that will make me not love your son. If you prefer to continue to think of me as an unworthy partner, to keep me at arm’s length instead of getting to know me, that’s your choice, and I’ll respect it. Rest assured that even if we’re unable to have a cordial relationship, I will never interfere with yours and Tom’s. I will never speak poorly of you, I will never complain or try and deter him when he wants to see you, and if the time comes when grandchildren are part of the picture, your involvement in their lives will be welcomed, no matter how little or how much you choose to participate. Do realize, though, that I’m in this for the long haul. I’m not going anywhere, unless Tom wants me to. I’m not in this for the fame, for the money…I have enough of that on my own. There is, of course, personal gain on my part…his love makes me a better human being, and it makes me whole. This man, this amazing, beautiful, intelligent, hilarious, talented man…he brought me back to life, and I am now and will always be grateful to you, Diana, for bringing him into this world, raising him, nurturing him, and allowing him to become who he is. You’ve known him, always…and me, I feel as if I have. All that time, when I wasn’t physically here, you were a caretaker for part of my soul…”

She leapt up off the couch and threw her arms around me, sobbing and apologizing and thanking me all at once. Though my initial reaction was to freeze at the violation of my personal space, I gave in after a brief hesitation and returned the embrace, struggling but managing to keep the waterworks under control…until I saw the look on Tom’s face, tears sliding down his cheeks and dripping off his jaw as he mouthed the words ‘I love you’ and ‘thank you’.

Diana leaned back, holding my elbows in her hands. “Maude, I made the most grievous error when I judged you before meeting you, and with undue harshness, I might add. And it really was the only thing Tom asked of me…yet I didn’t honor his request. I hope you both can forgive me, even if it takes time…and I will never, not for a single moment, again doubt your love for him, and his for you. A more worthy partner than you…thoroughly and utterly impossible. And if anyone’s beneath anyone’s station, it’s me who is beneath yours, my dear. Way, far beneath. It would be an honor and blessing if you’d permit me to get to know you, Maude. ” Her right brow shot up. “And, correct me if I’m mistaken but did I hear the word ‘grandchildren’ in there somewhere?”

I laughed, extracting myself from her to wipe my eyes with my sleeve. “Not to change the subject or anything, but I, for one, forgive you. While I don’t particularly approve of your methods, I’m of the opinion that you were a.) duped by a sociopath and b.) motivated by your love for that guy over there on the couch, which I can totally get behind. And I’d like to get to know you as well…you must have some baby Tom in the bathtub photos somewhere, am I right?”

She laughed, nodding, and suddenly Tom’s arms were wrapped around my waist from behind, his cheek against mine.

“Mum, I’ll have you know that Maude is not the type of person who doles out forgiveness easy-peasy. What did you say to me? You’re more of a never speak to you again dance on your grave kind of gal?”

“It was actually ‘cut you out of my life and dance on your grave’, but, you know, close enough.”

Tom released and stepped around me to place his hands on Diana’s shoulders. “Mum, what you did…it really stung, and I’m still disappointed in you, but I’ll get over it. I can see things from your perspective now, and part of me is almost glad this all happened because it gave me the push I needed to…talk. With you. Feels to me like we should look at it as a new phase of our relationship and just move forward. So, I forgive you as well.” He embraced her, and they remained as such for several minutes, silent, Tom rubbing her back and her rubbing his.

My phone rang, and I slipped it out of my pocket, noting that the time on the lock screen was nine thirty-eight. We’d arrived almost two hours ago, and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed that it had grown dark outside, what with the huge windows at either end of the room. Shaking my head, I turned back to the display, Simon’s name bright white above the ringing phone animation. I walked out of the drawing room and down the hallway as I answered.

“Simon, Simon, Simon…to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve been outside your door pressing this fucking buzzer for, like, FOREVER. Second time today, too. Did you turn it off or have you both gone fucking DEAF?”

“We’re not deaf. We’re not THERE.”

“Oh come ON. I was born at night but not LAST night. Get your lazy nympho ass out of bed and down here. Luke and I went out to dinner and we brought home dessert for you. Better-than-sex dessert.”

This snort I let loose. “Um, as much as I love dessert…sorry, no. You guys must be doing it wrong or something.”

“Honey, we do it SO right…do I need to go into detail for you maybe?”

“Nope. No. Thank. You. Tell me about the dessert instead, m’kay?”

He chuckled. “It’s banoffee pie. THE BEST banoffe pie I’ve ever had in all of my life. Better-than-sex banoffee.”

I’d reached the restroom, entered and closed the door behind me, turned right and walked past the shower and sink into the WC, setting the phone on the floor and putting him on speaker so I could pee. “Yeah, wow, great. What the ever-loving fuck is banoffee pie?”

His gasp echoed in the small space. “You are so…so…AMERICAN. I forget occasionally because you’re semi-cultured but…”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“You know if I could, I would. Anyway. Banoffee pie was first concocted in 1971 by the owner and head chef of the Hungry Monk restaurant in Jevington. It’s bananas, toffee, cream, dulce de leche…and sometimes coffee and chocolate, which this one has…usually with a pastry crust or one made of crumbled biscuits and butter. But the gem I have here for you, this actual slice of heaven from Hidden Treasure, has a crust comprised of day-old glazed chocolate doughnuts and crumbled up Heath bars and it is FUCKING SPECTACULAR. We brought you an entire pie but if you don’t get down here right now I’m going to start eating it and I won’t be able to stop, my tiny waist and eight pack BE DAMNED.”

Banoffee…combination of ‘banana’ and ‘toffee’. Better than Toffnana. Probably. I was ready to drive an hour and a half to taste it, no matter what it was called. “Simon. Really. We’re not there. We’re at Tom’s mother’s house. But please, don’t eat my pie. Oh, fuck me don’t even…”

“I’m going to ignore that, which will surprise you, I’m sure, because…you’re at Diana’s? Ummmm…WHY ARE YOU AT DIANA’S?” I wiped, rose, pulled my pants, up, zipped and flushed. “OH MY GOD DID YOU JUST FLUSH A TOILET? ARE YOU TALKING TO ME WHILE YOU DO YOUR LADY BUSINESS?”

“Yes. I apologize profusely on behalf of my bladder and its poor timing. Lady business…what, men don’t piss? Count your blessings that I wasn’t…hang on, I’ll be right back…gotta wash my hands.” After drying off on the hand towel, I picked up the phone and took him off speaker but remained in the bathroom. “Okay. You’re off speaker. We’re here because…hang on again.” I put him on hold to text Tom.

In bathroom. Simon on phone. Looking for us, told him where we are. Wants to know why. Oy. Sorry. What should I tell him? – XO M

 

Truth. Only thing they don’t know is…you know. Planning on telling them, though. Mum is on phone with Emma (she called right after you left room)…I asked her to hold off on saying anything to her because I want to tell her myself. – XOXOXO T

 

When I removed Simon from hold I could hear Luke in the background, followed by Simon yelling “I don’t know, I’m on HOLD. Lord help me, you’re even nosier than I AM.” I cleared my throat. “Hello? Who’s there? My friend Maude seems to have ABANDONED ME. She’s not my friend any longer. Will you be my new friend?”

“Go fuck yourself. Again.”

“Yeah. We covered that already. So, where were we? Oh, right. WHY ARE YOU AT DIANA’S? Please hurry, Luke’s driving me out of my GOURD here.”

“Tom got a call from Jane earlier today. Diana gave her his number. They had lunch together. She was here with Diana when we arrived. It was…interesting. I may or may not have threatened to tear her heart out with my bare hands and stomp it flat while she watched. Only in the event of a zombie apocalypse, of course. So, you know, not really a threat.”

Simon roared, and I heard Luke mumble a string of profanities in the background. “Shit. Luke, don’t worry. Totally fine. She will NOT be going to the media. Tom will explain everything. It’s cool. I promise.” Of course I wasn’t certain that it was, in fact, cool, but I couldn’t imagine her risking the truth coming out. And I really thought I’d sort of…frightened her. Now that, THAT I was certain was cool.

Still chortling, Simon took up my cause. “That twatwaffle would never go to the press with anything related to her relationship with Tom…he’s got reliable sources to help him make her look like the disgusting piece of trash she is. Not what she’s after…she wants everyone to think of her as Saint Jane the Do-Gooder. Ugh. You should have slapped her. DID you slap her?”

“No. I did not slap her. And now I’m filled with regret. Thanks for that. I should go. Don’t wait up, we’ll be back really late. Details tomorrow. And Luke, I’m sorry. If there’s any mess, I’ll clean it up. Please don’t fire me.”

I could hear him laughing, the sound growing louder as he neared Simon’s phone. “At some point you’re going to be begging me TO fire you. Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to drink some more wine, have some more pie and repeat as necessary until I pass out. Drive safely on the way home…that’s a long ride. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Good night.” I paused. “Wait, that’s not MY pie, is it? Because that sort of betrayal WILL NOT STAND…” They both giggled maniacally, bid me good night back and hung up.

“Fuck. Now I’m hungry.”

****************************************

As I exited the bathroom I thought I smelled food and was positive I’d gone totally over the edge and was hallucinating. Tom poked his head out of the kitchen as soon as he heard me take a step, the plastic of the boot clunking on the tile. A huge grin was followed by mad, albeit short, dash to embrace me, burying his face in my neck.

“Mmm. You smell even better than the full English breakfast Mum’s whipping up.”

I patted him on the head. “Why thank you. I think. Wait, I’m not imagining that smell? Your mother’s actually…cooking? Breakfast? At almost ten PM?”

He pulled back, hands gliding ever so slowly from my back, around my ribs and coming to rest on my hips, which I immediately thrust forward and up into his. “Unf. Maauuuddeee.” His mouth met mine, and I sank my teeth gently into his lower lip, eliciting a moan that I mostly stifled by sucking on his tongue. Diana’s voice interrupted us shortly thereafter.

“Tom? What kind of bacon does Maude like? Streaky or back?”

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he ground against me before replying. “Streaky!”

My head tilted to the side. “Back bacon…I know that that is. But streaky? And what exactly is in a full English breakfast? I’ve seen it listed on menus but never with a full ingredient description. Probably not warranted since you all KNOW what’s in it…”

He looked down at himself. “Thank god for long shirts. As far as breakfast, come and see.” He took my hand and led me to the open kitchen/dining room entrance. It was a lengthy space, the dining portion to the left, the kitchen to the right, the entirety thirty feet long and fourteen feet wide. The cabinets were white with chunky stainless pulls, mostly lowers except for two uppers bisected by a shelf above the stainless gas stove, from which hung a slew of pots, pans and cooking utensils. The shelf itself held mixing bowls and the like, and under the marble-topped light wood center island rested a collection of what I assumed were the most commonly used dishes. The windows over the sink overlooked a patio, subtly lit with what appeared to be solar torches. Diana was using a cutting board she’d placed on the island and was busily slicing tomatoes, her back to the stove. A large cast iron frying pan in which both sausage and bacon was sizzling away sat on one of the front burners, with a smaller empty one to its left. Two pots were behind them, but I was unable to discern their contents from my current vantage point, though I thought I smelled potatoes. And baked beans.

Diana waved at me, knife in her hand. “I hope you don’t mind sticking around for a bite to eat, even though it’s a tad on the late side.”

I shook my head. “I do not mind. Not one single bit. I was hungry, but now…all these delicious smells…I’m, like, ravenous. Thank you so much for cooking.” I turned to Tom. “Well THIS beats the hell out of McDonalds.” He snickered, and my attention shifted back to Diana. “I’d offer to help, but I’m reasonably sure I’d be more of a hindrance, so…I’m really good at cleaning up, though.”

It was odd, attempting to have a casual conversation after what had happened such a short time ago, but faking it was something else I was really good at. I figured at some juncture, it would stop being awkward and forced and evolve into something genuine. Tom and I stood across from her, our backs to the sink.

“Maude, to answer your question…a full English contains bangers, or sausages as you lot across the pond call them, bacon, either back or streaky, which is the strip kind you’re used to, baked beans, eggs, fried or broiled tomatoes, fried or toasted bread and whatever else one feels inclined to toss into the mix.”

My brows had begun rising as he spoke and were now at full mast. “You know, you’d think that at least one of my parents would have introduced me to this wonder. But nope. Never. I mean, my mother, she barely ate anything so that part makes sense but my dad…was he trying to fit in, Americanize himself or something? But…it was New Orleans…the thing there that makes you fit in is the fact that you…don’t. Or is it not a thing in Ireland? Can’t blame the chef, either, since he was French. Christ, I feel so deprived. All that fried goodness…” Scrunching my nose, I shrugged. “Though I have been to London, several times, and never inquired about it so I’m beginning to believe the fact that I’m a creature of habit who perpetually orders a bacon egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast in every single city I travel to is really what’s to blame for my lack of knowledge in this particular scenario.”

Tom hip-bumped me. “A full Irish breakfast is similar, but they add either black or white pudding and use soda bread.”

I opened my mouth wide and stuck out my tongue, shaking my head in disgust. “I watch the Food Network enough to know that that does NOT mean chocolate or vanilla pudding. Blood sausage. Ick. PASS.”

Diana’s chopping had come to an abrupt halt. “Maude, did your parents emigrate from the UK?”

“They did. My mother was English, from Manchester. My father was Irish, grew up in a little coastal town called Dalkey. Her parents had a summer cottage there…that’s how they met. The moved to the states in 1977, while she was pregnant with me. To Louisiana, specifically. I was born and raised in New Orleans.”

She pursed her lips, nodded and half-smiled before tossing the tomatoes into the waiting frying pan. I interpreted her reaction as an uptick in my credibility rating. Street cred, English style. Tom and I set the table with everything but dinner plates while she prepared the eggs, sunny-side up for all of us, and poured water and orange juice into the glasses we’d neatly arranged. The bread was the last thing to fry, and I was stunned when I saw home fries on my plate…apparently that’s what I’d smelled, potatoes boiling, though I hadn’t actually seen her fry the beautifully seasoned morsels of deliciousness. They were the first things I tried when I sat down, and the noise I made when they hit my taste buds earned me an equally stimulating under-the-table thigh grab from Tom.

“Oh. My. GOD. Diana, these are…wow. SO GOOD.” I began sampling a bit of each item on my plate, deciding to try the eggs next, salting the yolk and dipping the bread into it. Then it was sausage with beans, which was like franks and beans but way tastier. A bite of egg, a bite of bacon, a bite of fried tomato, my tasting continued until I realized my dinner companions were staring at me, both of them wearing the same wry smiles. As I looked back and forth between Tom and Diana several times, my eyes widened, a piece of tomato still on my fork. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to wait for grace or something?”

Tom guffawed, and Diana chortled quietly. She got herself under control first, waving her hand in the air before speaking. “No, you weren’t. It’s just…” A snicker. “I’m so tickled to finally see a woman that Tom’s brought to my table actually EATING.”

He leaned back and raised his hands shoulder height, palms forward. “Not that I bring women to my mother’s for dinner in DROVES or anything. Christ, Mum.”

She was laughing again. “Well of COURSE you don’t. But any time you HAVE I’ve always mentioned it to you afterward and…”

He turned to me. “And she’d say something to the effect of ‘Tom, a woman who subsists on coffee and bits of lettuce is one who not only enjoys denying herself pleasure, but will enjoy denying you YOURS as well.’”

After pausing for a moment to ponder the statement, I nodded and pointed at Diana with my fork. “You know, I think you might be on to something there. Not a fan of denying myself pleasure.” With that, I stuffed the piece of tomato in my mouth, chewing as I watched the blush begin to work its way up from Tom’s chest to his cheeks.

Conversation during the rest of the meal was minimal, and Tom and I cleaned up together while Diana relaxed, slowly sipping her glass of red wine. I scrubbed the pots by hand after we loaded the dishwasher, and Tom dried. He’d put his phone on the windowsill and opened the Spotify app before we began, keeping it low…by our standards, anyway. When Queen’s ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ came on Tom cranked it up more than a few notches, and we both began singing quietly while tapping our feet, our voices growing louder as we finally full out danced in front of the sink, clapping like a couple of idiots, water and dish soap bubbles flying everywhere as I let Tom lead me and spin me around as fast as the boot would allow, ending with a flourish as he dipped me, my lower back braced on his right thigh. When he stood me up my immediate reaction was to apologize for the mess we’d made, but I stopped short when I was struck by Diana’s expression. She appeared dumbfounded, then set her glass down and stood.

“Maude, I realize that you’ve forgiven me, but…I feel as if I need to apologize again. I may be apologizing to you into perpetuity. Seeing the two of you together like that…knowing that what I did had the potential to destroy, was orchestrated to destroy, what you’ve both been so blessed to find…I’m sorry. Thank you, for being willing to give me another chance, and most of all, for loving my son.” She turned to Tom. “And I’m apologizing to you again, too, my boy. What you have here, with Maude…it’s a rare, precious gift and I hope you treasure it. Always.” Before we had a chance to respond, she pointed at the kitchen clock. “It’s going on midnight, and it’s been a long day…I’m not comfortable with the idea of you two driving so far at such a late hour. Especially in THAT CAR. Why don’t you spend the night? The guest room is fully equipped…towels, new toothbrushes, toiletries…there may even be some T-shirts in Tom’s room for you to sleep in. If there aren’t, I’m sure I can scare something up, if you wish.”

She had me at ‘Tom’s room’, for as soon as the words reached my ears I was overwhelmed at the possibility of seeing the place where he’d played, read, listened to music…where he’d grown from a boy into a man. Boarding school, of course, had kept him away from it for long periods of time, but summers and holidays had been spent right here, in this house. And since she’d referred to it as Tom’s room, chances were it might even still contain some of his STUFF. I sighed, wondering what it felt like to have a mother that actually cared for you, wanted what was best for you…who’d curated even just a minuscule amount of your childhood memorabilia so you’d later be able to hold it in your hands, letting it spark memories of long forgotten vignettes, returning you to a specific pinpoint on your terribly finite timeline.

Tom tugging on my shirtsleeve gently lifted me from my contemplation, interpreting my sigh as something it wasn’t. “Love, I’m fine to drive if you don’t want to stay.”

“No, no…it’s fine. Staying is fine. Sorry. I was just…I…it’s…it’s probably totally weird of me to say, but I can’t wait to see your room.”

Diana grinned. “Go on and give her the tour, Tom. I’ll finish up here. And don’t forget to point out the Naughty Step.”

He kissed my forehead, then rolled his eyes at her. “Mum. Behave.”

She laughed. “Never.” Taking my elbow, she led me out of the kitchen. “Now I’m going to have to show you myself.”

The Naughty Step was the first landing, two steps up from the hallway floor, before the staircase turned sharply right and straight up. It was now carpeted with a beige Berber, but it had originally all been hardwood.

Still holding my elbow, she shook her head, then spoke. “Tom was a bit of a…handful.” I snorted, and he poked my left butt cheek, his mother completely unaware of why my snort was followed by a squeak.

He slipped past us and stood on the landing, nose to the corner. “Whenever Mum used Thomas instead of Tom, I knew I was in deep sh…er, trouble and would wind up just like this for an amount of time determined to be appropriate by my jailer based upon the seriousness of the crime I’d committed.”

As he turned around, Diana pivoted her head toward me in order to meet my gaze. “His worst offense was cutting Sarah’s waist-length braid clean off while she was sleeping. He was five and she was seven, if I’m not mistaken.” A huge smile spread across her face. “The next morning he was using it as a bullwhip, pretending to be Indiana Jones.”

My mouth dropped open as I pointed at him. “Oh ho HO, that is…HILARIOUS. Not for your sister, though, I guess. Yikes. I would have duct taped you to a tree if you did that to me. In the woods. During a snowstorm. With raw meat at your feet to attract the wolves.”

Tom shrugged, grinning impishly. “I can’t help that I began exercising my inherent acting abilities at such a tender age. And someday soon Sarah’s going to let go of that grudge she’s been holding all this time, I just know it.”

Diana laughed and let go of my elbow. “Off to the kitchen with me. Let me know if you need anything.”

We extended our thanks, and Tom stepped back down onto the hallway floor, the pointed into the drawing room. “One of my first memories is of Mum playing the piano in there for us…we didn’t have much furniture as it hadn’t been long since we moved in, so it was wide open and I’d dance and dance, even though she played the same songs over and over. I must have been three or four.” He placed his hand half over his mouth, pinky under his chin, thumb pointing up. “There’s a school picture of me in the study at that age, I think. It’s right over there, by the bathroom.”

Funny how I’d walked past it twice and didn’t notice the door. It was to the right of the entrance, one wall in common with the water closet portion of the bathroom and a window overlooking the driveway. As Tom opened it, I was surprised to see papers and boxes piled everywhere. Full to bursting bookshelves lined the walls, and an antique mahogany desk sat in front of the window, facing the door. Tom scanned the walls as he spoke, gently touching each item as he mentally cataloged it. “This was my dad’s study, and Mum really hasn’t done much with it over the years. It’s kind of the catch-all room, I suppose. Ah, here it is. Thomas William Hiddleston, aged 4.” He lifted a framed photo from its spot and brought it to me, moving cat-like through the clutter.

It was a black and white shot, Tom sitting in a wicker chair wearing pin-striped pants and a sweatshirt with a character on it that I couldn’t quite make out and text that I couldn’t quite read, chubby little boy hands resting on his thighs. His hair, in spite of the photo not being in color, was clearly blonde, the roots a bit darker than the rest. It appeared as if someone had worked very hard at trying to comb it neatly and part it in the middle, but the wispy curls had either resisted from the start or had begun springing back to life along the sides, leaving the top front part looking as if it had been plopped on like a toupee. It looked absolutely nothing like him, but for the mischievous glint in his eyes.

I kept looking back and forth between his face and the photo until he tried to mimic his younger self’s pose, at which point I dissolved into giggles. “That’s not fucking helping. Are you sure this is you?” All I got was an eyeroll in return, so I started at the picture some more. The angle of his temples, his cheekbones, the way he held himself, posture solid but melting into the chair at the same time, the tilt of his head, the long fingers…and I saw…him. My Tom, thirty years ago. I’d been seven or eight and half a world away when the camera had clicked and captured this moment. Thinking about how we’d been alive but apart for so long and had actually managed to FIND each other in the midst of the other seven billion plus inhabitants of this planet made me burst into tears.

His hands were on my shoulders instantly, face leaning in and inches from my own. “Hey, hey…I know, this was some day. I’m sorry. So sorry. Thank you for coming with me, for supporting me, for dealing with all my baggage. I love you. Come here.”

He pulled me to his chest, and I wrapped my arms around him, listened to his heart beating for a few moments, then leaned back, photo still in my right hand. “No, no, don’t be sorry. I’m glad I could be with you. No more will you have to unpack your suitcase of pain alone, my love. Totally not why I’m crying, though.”

Staring at me expectantly, he waited for an answer for a few seconds, then rested his forehead against mine.

“Oohhh, you probably want to know why, right? Yeah. Just sappy ass me, being a sappy ass. I finally saw you in the picture, the shadow of future you, the you that’s right here breathing in my face and can you stop that please it’s doing things to me…” He moved his head back half a foot. “Better. Anyway, I thought about where I was when you were sitting in that chair and realized I was half a world away and it just…just…I mean, all these years later, BOOM, I’m traveling all over the globe, you’re traveling all over the globe, and we meet in a fucking bookstore in Hawaii and now I’m standing in your father’s study in England and your mother made me breakfast at night and we’re sleeping over at her house, where you grew up and what a fucking insanely beautiful thing this all is, Tom. Isn’t it? And I hope you remember what that sweatshirt you were wearing said because I NEED TO KNOW, you know?”

He laughed. “I do remember, strangely enough. It’s Winnie the Pooh, and it says Twice Times, for the A.A. Milne poem of the same name. ‘They lived in a Tree when the weather was hot, And one of them was Good, and the other was Not. Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Two - But Bad Bear’s thingummies were worn right through.’”

 

My eyes rolled not once, but twice. “There’s Twice Times for you. Poetry at four. You’re too fucking much.”

His expression turned to a mixture of joy and wistfulness, and he pulled me to his chest yet again, hand in my hair holding me in place, and this time I could feel his heart beating, against my cheek, powerful and strong. His voice was soft, chin resting on top of my head. “All that time, Maude…I never realized it, but looking back, remembering how I felt…I…I missed you. Every day. My entire life. And now you’re here, and I feel…connected. Entwined. Unified. It is, as you said, a fucking insanely beautiful thing.”

Without moving, I muttered my reply. “Fucking Hiddleston. Are you ever going to let me win one of those?”

“No.” His hands slid down to cup my ass, voice a low growl in my ear. “Now, I don’t suppose you’d like to join me in my room?”

I muttered some more. “We’re NOT having sex in your room. Not. No. Not. Not having sex in your room with your mother in the house. It would be tasteless, rude, crude…”

Grinding against me, his growl turned into a plaintive whine. “But Maude, I’ve never had a girl sleep over before.”

Pushing him away, I stepped back, pointing at him. “Did you just invoke the teenage masturbatory fantasy fulfillment clause? Because I think you just invoked the teenage masturbatory fantasy fulfillment clause, you bastard, and christ in a a sidecar you have no idea what that did to my ladygarden and the ONLY way we’re doing this is if we’re SURE your mother is ASLEEP and my god what kind of PERSON am I that I’d even entertain the IDEA…”

Rubbing himself through his Henley and jeans, he waggled his brows at me, grinning wolfishly. “You’re MY kind of person, Maude.”

I gazed up at the ceiling, tapping my finger on my chin, then looked back at him, nodding. “I can live with that.”


	31. Chapter 31

Tom retrieved my messenger bag from the front passenger side floor as well as his ‘emergency’ duffel from the boot of the Jaguar prior to our ascending the stairs. The guest room was located directly to our left upon reaching the top landing, and after dropping both bags on the double bed he proudly pulled out two T-shirts, one black and one white, a black hooded sweatshirt, a pair of black sweatpants, navy blue jogging shorts, a set of running shoes and three pairs of athletic socks out of the duffel.

He smirked as he waved the white T-shirt in the air. “Look at me, prepared for anything.”

“Please. Spare me. You’re prepared for a RUN. Where are your underwear, sunshine? Good lord, how do you thud around on the pavement with your junk free? Hmm…how about naked running? I kind of want to see that. No, I need to see that. You. Naked running. Just your sneakers on. Plenty of room in our flat for it…or at least for jogging…”

“Consider it done. Will you be joining me?”

“Thomas. I can’t run and observe at the same time. And I have to observe. As a scientist, it’s my duty. An ethical and moral obligation, essentially.”

His left brow shot up, smirk widening. “Oh, so you’re a scientist now? What’s your field of study, might I ask?”

I nodded. “I’m a Theoretical Phallic Physicist. Specializing in the material composition and behavior of the phallus, measurement of its energy output and transference as well as its relationship to the universe as a whole.”

He sat down on the bed beside the clothing, first shaking his head, then covering his face with his hands.

Lifting my arms straight up in the air, I let out a muted war whoop. “YES! My witty repartee hath silenced my loquacious nemesis! WOO HOO!”

Fingers parting, he peeked at me from between them, then dropped his hands to his lap, grinning, tongue between his teeth. “As it would appear the contents somehow enhance your intellect to the point wherein it reaches a level that is detrimental to my eloquential superiority complex, you are henceforth no longer permitted to partake in full English breakfasts.”

Shrugging, I flipped him off. “Nice try, and while ‘eloquential superiority complex’ is pretty fucking great…and probably TRUE…” He flung a pillow at me. “It can’t compare with Theoretical Phallic Physicist. Cocks always win, hands down. Or up. Or on. Or whatever. And just try and stop me from eating the FEB next time around. I triple dog dare you.”

He stood, picked me up and dumped me unceremoniously on the mattress, atop the clothes from the duffel. Next thing I knew he was straddling my waist and ripping the Henley off over his head. Though parallel to the rear windowed wall and room door, there was a clear-as-day side view of the bed for anyone coming up the steps.

I ignored both his intensely amorous stare and lickably taut abdominal muscles, neck grudgingly turning away from them as I pointed to my left. “Dude. Door’s open.”

His head whipped to the side. “Shit.” As he clambered off me and headed for the door I thought I heard the stairs creak, confirmed by his words seconds later. I sat up quickly, trying my best to not look like a cougar who’d missed out on the best prey of the day.

“Hey Mum. I had clothes for us in the car, so we’re all right with that. We’ll both shower and then it’s lights out.”

She peered around him and waved at me, then patted Tom’s arm. “Stay up as late as you’d like, darling boy…no need to worry about me. That white noise machine Sarah bought me for Christmas puts me out like a light…never slept so soundly, I have to say. Wish I’d discovered it years ago. Anyway. Good night, you two. See you in the morning.”

I’d gotten up and walked to stand with Tom, and our ‘good night’ in stereo sent her on her way, which wasn’t far…the master bedroom was situated right on the other side of our room, only the common wall between us. Tom explained that where we were had been the original master, but after Emma was born his parents had put on an addition, garage on the lower level, master on the upper. The live in nanny had been given this larger space, helping to shield his parents from the cacophony of three small, noisy children running amok at all hours. After the nanny had served her term, Diana turned it into the guest room in an effort to thwart a budding sibling war over who was most entitled to have their own bathroom.

The guest room walls were a pale yellow, carpet a cream-colored medium pile. The bedframe and the wardrobe were dark wood, linens white, pillows white with grey geometric designs. Two dark wood nightstands were on either side of the headboard, holding two tiny lamps with cloth shades, and the walls were peppered with various landscape photography, garden and floral scenes, and a painting of an iris directly above the bed. It was vaguely abstract, but the petals were so realistic my hand reached out to touch them. As I stepped back, I noticed that it was much like a photograph that had been taken with the camera focused directly on the flower, everything else around it growing increasingly blurry in proportion to the distance. In the lower left corner were the initials DH. I turned to Tom, mouth half open, brows furrowed.

“Did your MOTHER paint this?”

He nodded. “She did. The photography is hers as well. It’s a new hobby…all Luke’s fault, really. He introduced her to Phaedra and it snowballed from there. She’s always gardened, created flower arrangements and such, but this, she says, is a way to make gardening last year round. Oh, speaking of Phaedra…she texted me earlier today to invite us to the gallery Friday night. It’s a charity thing, proceeds from sales that evening are going to an art program scholarship. Mum and Emma are coming in for it too, according to her. Fine if you’d rather not…”

“No, I’d love to see Phaedra’s exhibition. Did you want to invite your family out to dinner or something before or after since they’ll be in town?”

Three steps closed the distance from where I was standing next to the bed and the foot where he’d been as I admired Diana’s artwork, and I turned to face him just as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “If you don’t mind, that would be lovely. Emma and I need to have a chat, and I’d like to get it over with. Sarah…that I’ll have to do over the phone or Skype, which I can do any time. I should wait until she’s here for the holidays in the fall and do it in person, but I’d really like to be done with it…”

One finger traced the dip above his clavicle. “I understand…I’m really, really hoping the universe is done with the deluge of drama. The past week has been a flood of biblical proportions. If Noah was here he’d be all ‘someone should have listened to the lord and built that boat’ or something.” Tom laughed, and I placed both hands on his shoulders. “This coming weekend, I am SO not leaving the house. I’m just going to lounge around in various locations, stare into space, and do absolutely nothing that isn’t completely selfish and/or hedonistic. Peopled out, dude. Need a break from humanity.”

His hands cupped my ass. “May I participate in the hedonism?”

My head tilted to the right as I sighed. “I guess. Never know when I’m going to run out of batteries, right?” I pushed away from him, grinning. “So, can I have the rest of my tour now?”

“Maude…”

“Yes?”

“If you think walking is challenging now, wait until Sunday evening.”

“Ohhh, thank you for reminding me.” I undid my jeans, pulled them down to my knees and sat on the mattress. His hand slipped into his own pants as he adjusted himself, eyes slanted, gazed fixed on me. “Have to take the boot off in order to get my jeans off. And I call dibs on the shorts.”

Kneeling in front of me, he began to undo the buckles at breakneck speed, gently removed the boot, tugged my pants all the way down my legs and over my feet, then snapped me back into the boot without missing a beat. “There you go. Here. Shorts.”

I slipped them over the boot and my left foot, pulling them into place as I stood. Tom attempted to take my hand but I made a beeline for the bathroom, its door across from the bottom of the bed and wide open. The walls were beige, elongated rectangular tiles, the floor a dark brown granite with tan and cream veining. A white toilet was on my right, the white vanity with sandstone top and white sink to my left, and a white tub/shower combination directly in front of me. There was no shower door, just a small glass panel at the far left of the tub where the fixtures were. The tub was large, garden style, and upon closer inspection I noticed that the shower mechanism was actually at the far right end and served double duty as a faucet. As I sat on the bowl I stared at it and shook my head.

“Well, I can’t see how I’m going to use that without making a mess.”

He bent to kiss my forehead. “There’s another full bath across the hall that’s slightly more…normal. I’ll go use that while you’re in here. Be right back.”

By the time I’d washed and dried my hands he was back, waiting in the doorway. I pointed at the door next to the bathroom. “Closet?”

“Oh, yes. It adjoins with Sarah’s room.” He opened it and I could see a door all the way at the other side. “We used to hide in it and spy on the nanny. Or scare the daylights out of her. It depended on what story we’d just read or movie we’d seen.”

“Duly noted. Preferred number of Hiddleston children per household equals one. More than one may cause headaches, blurred vision, screaming, heart palpitations, and cardiac arrest.”

He pouted. “We were really lovely children, Maude. Very well behaved.”

“You realize I can ask your mother about that, yes?”

“All right. We were horrid little monkeys who stole years of peace and sanity from every adult who had the misfortune to live in the same household with us. Happy now?”

As I nodded, he extended his hand again, and I accepted. We walked past the railed stairwell opening, down a narrow hallway, approximately thirteen feet long and five feet wide, to far side of the house where the bedrooms were. All the doors were open, and Tom pointed into the one at our left.

“This is Emma’s.” I poked my head in, feeling it was too weird to actually go inside the personal space of someone I hadn’t even met. There was a single bed with an oak frame, a floral coverlet with several stuffed animals up near the headboard, an oak desk, and lots of school photos on the walls. Next, he pointed to the first door on our right. “And this is Sarah’s.” The bedframe was the same as the one in the guestroom, as were the end tables, but there was another tiny bed squeezed in on the right side. “That’s where my niece sleeps when Sarah and her husband come and visit. They live in India. Her name is Saachi, my niece. It means truth. She’ll be four on her next birthday. August 25th.”

The choppiness of his sentences, as well as the slight mournfulness tone his voice had taken on told me he wished he was able to see her more…to see all of them more. I kissed his cheek. “Sorry, Tom. It must suck to have a family you actually like that you don’t see very often.”

“It does, but that’s the deal. Sarah’s a journalist, so she’s always travelling, I’m always travelling…Emma’s around, though. For now. Her fiancé’s local, so she may not go too far and keep acting locally. I’m glad Mum has her nearby, but it would be nice if she could see Saachi regularly. Hard having a grandchild so far away, even if you Skype every day.” He smiled softly as he stepped forward, arm extending in an exaggerated flourish into the second doorway on the right. “And this one, Maude, is mine.”

I went in first, past his arm, and he stood behind me as my eyes roamed around the very place he’d slept for so many years. The walls were the same shade as the guest room, the single bed with its oak frame to the rear left, positioned directly under the left wall window. The rear windows were centered, but on the right side of the bed when looking at it from the foot. Directly to my left was an armchair, red, most likely a cast off companion piece to the drawing room sofa. A blue blanket was draped across its back, and a blue and white striped area rug had been placed in front of it, one end extending all the way to the side of the bed nearest the door. Between the chair and the bed sat a small white bookcase and night table, and to my right was an oak desk. The thing that was next to the desk was responsible for my initial gasp…an acoustic guitar, neatly resting on a display stand. My second gasp followed immediately, when it dawned on me that he might know how to PLAY IT. I swiveled around to face him, eyes wide, though I tried to contain my exuberance because Will had played and I didn’t want him to think I was a guitar player uber groupie or something. Which, in fact, I kind of was…my motivation, though, wasn’t entirely rooted in a love for music or musicians. At least fifty percent was good old-fashioned jealousy. Envy with a capital E. No matter how hard I’d tried, or how much I’d learned, I was incapable of playing even a single instrument and was mildly obsessed with discovering the secret of it all from anyone who COULD.

I pointed at the well-worn acoustic. “That’s yours. You play.” No question necessary now. I’d remembered that he’d spent five weeks with Rodney Crowell. He’d learned to sing to play Hank. Of course he played.

His cheeks grew pink, and he shrugged, then nodded. “I do. But I’m certain I’m nowhere near as good as you are.”

“I can’t.” I swore I could feel the electronics of my brain short-circuiting at the very suggestion that I could.

“You can’t…what?”

“Play. I can’t play. Music. Instruments. Can’t.”

Tom frowned as he tried to decide if I was fucking with him, but a quick analysis of my facial expression led him to conclude that I was serious. His mouth opened, then closed. “But, you were in a band…“ 

My head moved back and forth slowly. “All I did was sing. Not only can I not play music, I cannot read music. I’ve tried everything, including more instructional lessons than I care to admit, but no dice. Drums, guitar, piano…on that I can play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and Greensleeves, but that’s because I memorized a couple of those play-by-numbers bits. So I count when I do. Oh, and Mary Had a Little Lamb. That’s three, two, one, two, three three three, two two two, three five five. Code, yes. Sheet music, no.”

He blinked repeatedly. “So when you sing, that’s all by ear? You don’t know what the notes are, the pitch, the key?”

“I just mimic what I hear. That’s all I got, baby.”

“Amazing.”

I snorted. “Frustrating. My entire life I’ve wanted to play some Beethoven on SOMETHING but all I can do is hum it.” Pausing, I contemplated why such a thing would bother me in the slightest. The answer revealed itself in a heartbeat. “Truthfully, I think it annoys the shit out of me because it’s one of the few things I haven’t been able to accomplish despite being motivated to do so and putting every ounce of effort I possess into learning.”

Smiling, he bent to kiss my forehead, then started into my eyes, his dancing with mischief and warmth. “Perhaps you just haven’t found the right teacher.”

“Oh my god, are you inferring that you’re willing to TEACH ME? That would ROCK.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes scrunching up. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Rodney…”

“No, no…YOU. If anyone can explain to me how to translate a particular tone into a mark on a piece of paper, it’s YOU.” Sighing, I facepalmed and shook my head. “Dude, gotta be honest…just saying that out loud…I don’t think it’s EVER going to happen. I’m going to firmly place myself in the ‘hopeless case’ category.”

Hands on my upper arms caused me to remove my hand and look up at him. “Don’t do that. It’s…well, it was for me, anyway, very much like learning a language. The notes represent sounds, just like letters do and…”

“Now might be a good time to ask me how many languages I’m fluent in.”

Tom’s right eyebrow rose. “Maude, how many languages are you fluent in?”

“One. Tom. One language. English. I know plenty of vocabulary words in other languages, and I can understand spoken Spanish and French enough to get the gist of the conversation, but other than a few phrases I’ve memorized, I cannot write or speak it. Now programming languages, that’s a whole ‘nother ball game.”

His brow furrowed, a smile forming on his lips. “So you can read and write all sorts of programming languages but not language languages.”

“Correct.”

“While I, on the other hand, am fluent in, Ancient Greek, for example, but if you put a calculus problem and a line of code in front of me I would have not the slightest inkling as to which was which.”

I held both hands up, palms facing me but fingers extended toward him, eyes wide. “Exactly. You can play, and I can sing. Shit. You can sing too. There’s just no way around my inadequacy here, man. Distract me, Thomas. Por favor.”

We both giggled, and he escorted me the short distance to the wall behind the armchair. Photographs with matching frames and mats most of which were group shots…classmates and teammates, based on the clothing worn by the subjects. The largest of them was a panoramic image of students in caps and gowns.

“That’s Cambridge graduation there.” He pointed to the rest of the images as he spoke, though their contents were revealed by the text on the mat. “This is Dragon school finishing ceremony…that’s me in the middle row, third from the left. There’s the Eton soccer team, and the one under it is my Eton graduating class.” He tapped on the glass of the final photo. “And this is the Cambridge rugby team. That’s me in the back row.”

I turned his way, looking him up and down, then back at the pictures. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, here we have the evolution of one Thomas William Hiddleston, from adorable primary schooler to gangly, floofy-headed Etonian to rather slight but already well on his way to becoming a sex god footballing Cambridgian.”

Tom coughed. “Cantabrigian.”

“Oh, why thank you. Rather slight but already well on his way to becoming a sex god footballing obnoxious Cantabrigian.”

His laugh cycled through all five gears of ehehehe before he turned to his left, walked past the armchair and opened the closet. “My god, it IS still here. Look, my rugby shirt!” He held it out for me to see, medium blue with widely-spaced black horizontal stripes and a black collar, the lining behind the buttons white. I walked to him and snatched it from his hands, then returned to the wall of photos, staring at his picture while fondling the shirt he’d worn when it was taken. I felt his presence behind me before his arms circled my ribcage.

“You knew rugby was football. I’m impressed.”

Pushing back against him, I nodded. “You should be.” He began rocking us back and forth, and as I continued to gaze at his youthful countenance I had…an idea. A way to make good on the teenage masturbatory fantasy fulfillment clause. I spun around to face him, my eyes moving to the bed, then back to him, repeating the process three times before speaking. “Um, Tom…how do you feel about…er…um, you know…role play?”

His chin fell to his chest, eyes closed, his breathing heavy. He inhaled, exhaled, opened then locked his eyes on mine, tongue poking into the inside of his cheek, causing it to protrude out obscenely. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to speak. “I…I…YES.”

I grinned. “Nice. All totally improv. Go out in the hall and close the door behind you. I’ll whistle when I’m ready, and when I do, come on in, m’kay?”

He groaned, eyes rolling back in his head. “Yes.”

As he walked to the door I was entranced by the way his back muscles had tensed, how they rippled as he moved. Once I heard the click of the latch closing, I yanked my own shirt over my head, whipped off my bra, tossed both on the chair, and began the process of squeezing myself into his rugby shirt. Cursing him for being so fucking skinny, I tugged and pulled until it was, technically, on. A full-length mirror hung on one of the closet doors, and I snickered as I reached it and saw my reflection. “Hmm, a bit like ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack, but if I get the girls just right…” The collar was fully open, and I reached down inside to lift and place first one boob, then the other. They stayed in place, smooshed together, resting high up and creating some seriously spectacular cleavage. I bent over to admire them in the mirror. “Wow. I think I’ve got a hard on.” Last step was removing my hair tie, which I wound around my wrist for safe keeping. I de-knotted as best I could with my fingers, fluffed and deemed myself good to go.

My whistle had barely begun when Tom opened the door, closed it behind him and turned the lock, waiting for my cue. My eyes widened, one hand flying up to cover my mouth.

“Oh my gosh, hello…you must be Tom. I’m Sarah’s friend from school, the one she’s writing her article on? The American who just graduated? Name’s Maude. Sarah just left to go to town to pick up some groceries and lunch…I was supposed to go with her but I spilled tea all over myself and all my other clothes were already in the washer so I stayed behind. Her stuff is way too small for me so she said it would be okay if I borrowed some of yours…”

He nodded, unable to stop himself from staring at my breasts. “That shirt looks…nice…on you.” He stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Tom. But you already knew that I guess. Sorry. I…” A flush creeped up his neck, and I chided myself for thinking that role playing with an incredibly talented actor was, you know, a GOOD idea. I accepted his hand, noting that his palm was wicked sweaty as we shook. “I wasn’t supposed to be back until later but my mate’s car broke down on our way to the cinema and we had to wait for a tow, but of course we tried to figure out what was wrong and my T-shirt got covered in grease so that’s why…” His free hand pointed at his bare chest, then waved around, up to his neck and down to his belly button. “Anyway. The tow driver offered to drop us at our respective homes so here I am and I should probably stop shaking your hand now, shouldn’t I?”

I bit my lip and rotated my wrist so his hand was on top of mine. “Possibly. Wow, your hands are…huge.” I raised my other hand and used it to caress the top of his, tips of my fingers sliding into the webbing between his, then up their sides. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such long fingers, either.”

Swallowing hard, he gently extricated himself from my clutches and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I…erm…sorry about that. I’m, ah…um…I guess I’m…nervous, maybe? Never had a girl in my room before, other than family. Sorry.”

My head tilted quizzically. “Never? Weren’t you at Cambridge this term? Or this past term it is now, I guess.”

He nodded, blush deepening. “Yes, I was…and I didn’t mean I’ve never…just not…here…and certainly never, ever one so incredibly beautiful and sexy and oh god did I just say that out loud?”

Stepping forward, I placed one hand flat on his stomach, right above his belly button. “You did. Thank you.” As my fingers splayed his hips jerked forward. “You know, I’m headed back to the states the day after tomorrow…” My hand began to traverse downward, ever so slowly, attempting to clearly convey my intentions after implying that this was an opportunity for an attachment free dalliance. “Sarah won’t be back for at least another hour.”

His hand covered mine, halting my descent momentarily, then lifted to hover near my cleavage, eyes questioning. I nodded, guiding his hand with my free one, placing it over my right breast so his thumb was centered upon my erect nipple.

“Oh, god. God. I…I…”

I let go, wrapping my fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and pulling him toward the bed. “Tom. Come. Sit.”

He obeyed, and I sat next to him, leaning in to touch my lips to his, licking them, his tongue the first to journey out of its cavern and into mine. We played our parts, making out like horny teenagers, until our lips were puffy and sore and I slid my hand up his thigh and began rubbing his cock through his pants. His long, drawn out whine and desperate stare made me mad with lust, and as he dry humped my hand I straddled and did the same to his thigh, our mouths colliding yet again. I stopped when I knew he was close, whispering in his ear. “I’m on the pill, so, if you want to…”

His voice was hoarse, words coming out between each panting breath. “I want. I want. I want.”

I stood and slipped off my shorts and underwear, hips thrusting forward toward him, and he groaned as his gaze fell upon my exposed mound, clearly visible just beneath the hem of his rugby shirt. “You can touch if you want. Feel what you do to me. Where you’re going to…be.”

He cupped me, then slipped a finger between my lips, rubbing my clit as he buried his face in my cleavage, kissing a licking and sucking. Placing one hand on either side of his head, thumbs resting on his temples, I waited until a single finger penetrated me, then clenched my muscles around it, lifting his head from my breasts while I did so in order to view his expression. His tongue still draped over his lower lip, off to the left side, eyes wide and wild, too incoherent to voice anything other than a bullish grunt-snort. Dropping my hands to his shoulders, I angled my head toward the bed in a reverse nod.

“Lie down, Tom.”

As he scrambled to fit himself in the small space, I knelt astride his thighs and sat back, my ass resting near his shins, hoping that I could pull off what I’d planned without falling on the fucking floor. His feet dangled over the bottom by a good eight inches, wood certainly digging into his Achilles tendons, but no complaint was uttered. My stroking of his cock through his jeans resumed, and as I unbuttoned them he inhaled sharply and bucked upward. The zipper was next, ever so slowly, counting the teeth as I pulled the tab downward. His cock sprang free, red and shuddering. I ran one finger up and down it, then around the head, stopping my ministrations as I leaned forward and met his gaze.

“Was it here? Right in this room, right in this bed, Tom? Where you first touched yourself and discovered what this…” I shifted my weight to my knees, lifted my ass off of him, then bent over and licked his cock, starting at the base and quickly working up to the head, slurping the pre-cum out of his slit. “…can do? Is this where you had your very first orgasm? Hmm?”

His eyes squeezed shut, then opened as I sat back down. “I…oh god…I…yes. Yes. Yes. God yes.”

I slipped his jeans down as far as they’d go without him lifting his ass off the bed, then grabbed his hips. “Show me, Tom. Show me what you did. Show me what you do.”

One hand slid down his belly, fingers fondling his pubic area, then wrapping around his shaft, stroking up, down, up, twisting, repeating with a squeeze to the head every third go. I counted twelve strokes before I stopped him by resting my hand on top of his.

“Mmm…thank you, Tom. That was incredibly…stimulating. Next time, when you’re all alone, rubbing and pulling and squeezing, will you think of me?”

His jaw clenched, twisting left as he moaned. “I’ll think of you EVERY time.”

I laughed as I rose up again, hands now beside his torso as I inched forward to align myself with his cock. Reaching beneath me, I lifted it, felt the head nestle against my entrance, then sat down, taking him all in as my weight came to rest upon his hips and thighs.

He stifled his cry by slapping a hand over his mouth, and I braced myself once again with my hands and knees, moving up, then down, up, then down, circling my hips, riding him in precisely the way that would give me the most pleasure, ignoring his futile attempts at thrusting upward, his feet still dangling.

A loud whimper escaped him, full volume as his hands grasped my hips. “Faster. Please. Faaaaaaaster.”

Moving my hands from his sides to his shoulders, I leaned down, my face inches from his. “What’s the rush, Cambridge boy?” I glanced down the shirt I’d borrowed, breasts nearly popping fully out as I pushed back and bounced forward over and over. “Rugby’s a very challenging sport…surely it’s aided in increasing your…stamina?”

The bed creaked, then groaned, and when I felt his thighs rubbing higher up on my ass I realized he’d braced himself against the footboard. Before I could mention what a terrible idea that was, he released my hips, sat up and suddenly I was on his lap, his chest crushed to mine as he slipped his hands behind my knees and tipped me backward, lifting so I could wrap my legs around his waist, tongue thrusting into my mouth without warning.

Gasping, he pulled away, eyes on mine. “I’ve got loads of stamina. I’ve also got loads of come, some of which needs expelling immediately so I can fuck you at least one more time before Sarah gets back. Really, it’s your stamina that you should be concerned with, Maude.”

I pinched his left nipple, twisting until he moaned. “So naughty, Cambridge boy. So very, very naughty. I can go for MILES, by the way. MILES. Bring it on.”

He grabbed my ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he found the grip he’d sought, then began to thrust frantically, using the footboard for purchase. It continued to groan, louder than either of us, keeping time with our rhythm. I wrapped my arms around him, hands holding onto his shoulders with my fingertips from behind as he licked my neck, finding the spot that always made me lose control, then biting down and sucking. My walls began squeezing him as I approached orgasm, and he paused, head lolling backward, eyes closed and jaw clenching, then releasing as he muttered.

“Oh fuck…that…what is that…please…more…more…I want more. I NEED MORE.”

That was it for me, and I bit into his neck to muffle my screams as I came, rolling my hips until I lost all sense of how to direct my body to move in a coherent fashion. He yelped, his thrusts becoming erratic, chin resting on my shoulder, voice in my ear, hands now off my ass, arms wrapped around me fully instead, pulling me to him.

“Inside you…I…I’m…inside…coming…coming inside you oh god you feel so fucking GOOD I’m coming can you feel it, can you? Can you? I’m coming…I’m coming…”

I nodded against his neck. “I feel it. I feel it. It’s like liquid fire inside me, and oh fucking hell I’m going to come again FUCK FUCK FUCK…” It began at my toes and worked its way up my body, every nerve alight with an electric current, then going dark as all the energy slammed into my core and caused an earthquake that no Richter scale could measure. He was shuddering, I was shuddering, and I was just about to comment on how impressed I was that we’d kept ourselves relatively quiet when the bed…let go, the footboard and frame hitting the floor with a resounding crash that was capable of waking the dead.

We slid down the mattress a ways before he reacted, planting his feet and standing, me still wrapped around his waist, neither of us moving as we waited to hear Diana’s voice or her footsteps as she hurried toward the sound. Several minutes passed, no Diana. I unwound my legs and allowed them to slide down his jean-clad legs, knowing holding me up much longer without a wall to rest some of my weight on was a daunting task, despite his being powered by adrenaline. He squatted slightly so my feet could reach the floor, then pulled out of me slowly.

We stood in silence for at least another five minutes, but still no Diana. I peeked around him at the bed, thighs clenched together so I wouldn’t make a mess of the rug, then realized the absurdity of my being concerned about a stain when the bed was in pieces. I began to giggle madly, putting a hand to my mouth so I wouldn’t infect Tom with my hysteria. When he turned to see the damage we’d wrought, the jig was up and he had a giggle fit of his own, turning back to me and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Cambridge boy is going to be grounded for a very, very long while if his mother sees this. Sister’s seductress friend may be banned from the premises. Permanently.” He began guffawing. “This bed…it’s like…thirty years old and lasted all this time and…oh good fucking lord…a single one of our intimate encounters and we…we…ehehehehe…”

I pointed at him. “I knew bracing your feet that way was a really, REALLY bad idea but you sat up and rammed your tongue in my mouth before I could say…anything…and then…I…FORGOT…” My body was shaking with laughter, tears running down my cheeks, and every time I thought I had my shit together and opened my mouth to speak I’d be back at square one again, waving him away when he tried to touch me, his laughter making mine even worse. I moved slowly to the chair to grab the shirt I’d worn all day, stuffing it between my legs and mopping up the mess we’d made. After avoiding looking at him for a while, I was calm enough to form words again.

“Dude, we SO have to fix the bed. Come look at it with me.” He’d zipped up and buttoned his jeans, and I slipped on my underwear and his shorts. Kneeling, he picked up the footboard and held it out to me.

“Ripped the frame screws right out. Looks like they’re stripped so I can’t even put it back together without drilling new holes. Or something.” He rose and opened the desk drawer. “But you know, no one ever uses this room…so I think the chances of someone actually sitting on the bed anytime soon are next to none, so if we can just make it LOOK stable…” A roll of duct tape was in his left hand, and I didn’t inquire as to why someone would have such an item in their bedroom desk drawer, because questions like that are often best left not only unanswered but totally un-asked. “Would you prefer to be the taper or the holder?”

‘Taper. Totally. Exercise my engineering skills.”

We moved the mattress to the side, and he held the frame aloft with one hand and the footboard upright with the other while I ducted taped both metal pieces together, wrapping tightly on both sides until he was able to relinquish his hold and the bed remained…a bed. Just for shits and giggles, I ran several lengths of duct tape from one side of the frame to the other, creating an additional strength point that would hopefully disburse the weight of the mattress enough so it would all stay together. As we put it back where it belonged, we both held our breath, let go, and stepped back. It held. We waited, staring at it, and each other, from either side of the bed. It still held.

I raised my hand to high five him, and he raised his own, our slap ending with his fingers entwined with mine as he walked around the bed to join me, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Thank you.”

Smiling, I bowed deeply. “You may now refer to me as Her Royal Highness Duchess Maude of Ductapia.”

He laughed softly. “Actually, that’s not what I was thanking you for, but thank you for that, too.”

“Oh. You’re welcome, on all counts. So, how lame are my role-playing skills? Be honest.”

His eyes narrowed as he bit his lip. “Are you joking? You were amazing…christ…I…suffice to say that for the rest of my life I’ll be sporting wood every time I hear the words ‘role play’. And ‘improv’. And ‘Cambridge’. And ‘rugby’.” He let out a low whistle. “That shirt you’re wearing…unf. Bring it home with us. I beg of you.”

I laughed, nodding. “Teenage masturbatory fantasy…fulfilled?”

“Fantasies. All of them, my love. Every last one.”

****************************************

I woke slowly the next morning, the scent of baked goods in my nostrils, reaching for Tom across the width of the double bed and discovering he wasn’t in it when my hands roamed over nothing but empty sheets. We’d both showered last night before hopping into bed, talking until well past three AM, and I had no idea what time it was now. There was no clock in the room, so I dragged myself out of comfiness, walked over to where my bag sat beside the wardrobe and pulled out my phone. Eight-thirty. I shook my head.

“Looks like someone’s going to be late for work AGAIN.” After typing up and sending off a quick text to Simon and Luke to let them know we’d stayed over and that I’d be back as soon as I could, I noticed that Tom had left the black T-shirt, sweats and hoodie for me. Yesterday’s clothes were balled up and stuffed in the duffle with his boots and the two remaining pairs of extra socks. I fished out my bra but left the underwear behind, chuckling at the idea of going commando in pants in which he did the same.

I peed, brushed my teeth, then braided my hair, securing it with the tie I’d left on the bathroom counter prior to showering. Once I’d finished dressing, I descended the steps, voices from the kitchen carrying into the vestibule and almost clearly audible to me. Tom’s first, something about ‘It’s being made already, but it won’t be finished for a while, and I have a very specific plan as to where and when I’m doing it, Mum. I want it…’ A timer beeping masked the rest of what he said, but Diana replied with a ‘…ever perfect, but I understand, especially with your schedule being what it is. If you can be patient, I suppose I can as well.’ When I walked around the corner, they were silent, Diana grinning slyly and Tom red as a tomato, tripping over his words as he bid me good morning and kissed me, chastely at first, finally unable to resist a quick but sneaky tongue battle even though we were in full view of his mother.

Diana had made scones, and after I scarfed down six of them laden with jelly and cream while chugging a cup of tea, Tom ran up to grab our things. Diana hugged us both, said she’d see us Friday, and we were in the car and on our way. I fell asleep a half hour in, seat reclined, and when I woke up in the parking garage I had not a clue who I was, where I was, what day it was…nothing. I’d always hated that feeling, waking up and recognizing all the objects around you but your brain registering nothing but blankness as far as your own personal details, and I often wondered if that’s what it felt like to have dementia. Being awake and alive and knowing that thing over there was a tree, but having no idea what your own name was or what your life had been.

Tom had seen the panic in my eyes and began talking immediately, and with the sound of his voice everything came back to me. As we left the garage I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a pap was following us, shooting away, Tom in his white T-shirt and navy shorts, me in his black sweats with the hood of his borrowed sweatshirt pulled up over my head. I turned around and said good morning, and Tom followed suit, leaving the overweight fellow in his mid-fifties too stunned to speak initially, his voice echoing the sentiment only as we began walking down the street toward our flat.

Once we were inside I headed upstairs and threw on my X-files T-shirt and hiking shorts, leaving the Doc Marten in place the entire time as I was too lazy to take it off and have to lace it up again, and because there was no way in hell I was I redoing the boot again this morning. Once it was a thing of the past, I’d consider dressing in a quasi-professional manner again. With pants and stuff. But for now, this would have to do. Tom planned to catch up on some work-related tasks while I was gone, as well as unpack our suitcases, and by the time I headed downstairs to the office it was after eleven. Simon was sitting in the waiting area, legs crossed, arms spread out on the top of the couch.

“Well, well, well…good morning to you, Miss So Very Important I Show Up Whenever I Want To.”

Lyssa poked her head out from the reception desk. “Don’t mind him, Maude. Someone crapped in his porridge today, I think. Good morning. Would you like some tea?”

I smiled and waved. “Good morning, Lyssa. No thank you.” Turning to Simon, I raised my middle finger in salute. “Where’s my pie, you bastard?”

He stood, sighing and walking slowly towards me. “One track mind, eh, woman? Maybe two tracks…” I smacked his arm as soon as he was within reach. “Ow, god, take it easy on me…my head is, like…pain. Your precious pie is downstairs. Let’s go…the kids cannot WAIT to watch more of your seminar.”

“Gee, Simon…why the head pain? Too much WINE, maybe?” I spoke loudly, near his ear.

Flinching, he shoved me away. “I hate you.”

Luke popped out of his office as we walked by, not looking his usual chipper self, either. “Good morning, Maude.” His eyes were a bit bloodshot, and full of concern. “Everything okay?”

“It is, actually.” I covered my mouth as a yawn overtook me.

He nodded. “Good. We figured you staying overnight meant all was well.”

Simon snorted. “Or that you needed more time to hide the bodies.”

I rolled my eyes at him then returned my gaze to Luke. “Any social media explosions that need my attention?”

He shook his head. “Not a one. Radio silence, as you expected.”

“Awesome. I am entirely too exhausted to deal with any sort of chaos today.”

This time, Simon gasped. “Maude Gallagher, were you up all night to get LUCKY under Tom’s mother’s ROOF?”

Luke and I spoke at the same time, in stereo. “Shut up, Simon.” We all laughed, and then it was down into the fray I went.

Before I knew it Lyssa shouted down the stairs to announce that she was leaving, and I realized that the rest of the staff had stayed late to continue our conversation. There were still three more hours to watch, and we decided to call it a night and pick up where we left off in the morning, with me assuring them I’d be in at eight AM on the dot. My pie had been tucked safely away in the fridge all day with a huge note on it in Simon’s writing that said ‘IF YOU TOUCH ME, MAUDE WILL KILL YOU’…which worked like a charm, to his credit. I carried it carefully up the stairs, dying to dig in as I’d skipped lunch. On the way out Luke asked me to tell Tom that he needed him to come down tomorrow afternoon so we could all go over his summer and fall schedule again as there’d been some changes…additions, mostly. I promised to deliver the message, hugged them both, and was out the door and up the steps as fast as a hungry woman with an ankle boot and tasty pie could manage.

Outside our flat, I swore I could smell alfredo sauce. Just as I turned the key in the deadbolt, Tom opened the door, still in his T-shirt and shorts, wearing a dark blue apron with white graphics…a serpent, and the words ‘LOKI made me do it’.

“Thomas, did you, like, COOK?”

He pointed to the apron in answer.

Laughing, I stepped inside and set my bag and the pie on the catch-all counter near the door, my eyes following him as he closed and locked it behind me, then walked past on his way back to the stove. His feet were bare, hips swaying to the beat of Daft Punk’s ‘Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger’ as he stirred the contents of a stainless steel pot. I hadn’t remembered seeing a stereo anywhere, but the sound was ambient and had to be from something other than his iPod. Before I had the opportunity to inquire, the thought was eclipsed by the smell of roast chicken as he opened the oven door and removed the pan which contained it. After setting it on the counter he turned to me, spoon in hand, grinning.

“Taste?”

Nodding, I closed the distance between us as he blew gently on the spoon’s contents, then slipped it into my waiting, open mouth and I moaned lewdly at the flavor of the sauce. He pulled the spoon from between my now-closed lips, smirking.

“Good, is it?”

Closing my eyes, I extended a hand to find the counter, then leaned into it. “I do believe a cigarette is now in order, Thomas.” My eyes flew open as I felt his tongue on my neck, licking a stripe from earlobe to clavicle. “Fucker. Now I need to smoke another one.” He’d begun filling a pot with water, and I saw two wedges of cheese on the countertop, along with a grater, and a pepper grinder. “Holy shit, you even grated the cheese yourself? I smell Parmesan, but what’s the other one there? And where did you get that apron? It’s adorable and totally needs to go on Tumblr. And thank you, for cooking…you were up earlier than me this morning, so you’ve got to be in worse shape than I am and I am fucking tostado.”

He placed the pot on a back burner, cranked the knob up to high, then grabbed a plastic container of fettuccine noodles, slicing the tape seal with a knife. “The other cheese is Romano. I think the sauce is much better when it’s not all Parmesan. I use heavy cream, too, and salted butter. As for the apron, I found it when I was cleaning earlier…from a fan, not sure how long I’ve had it, though. Here, I’ll pose with the chicken for you. It’s herb roasted, coated with mayonnaise to both maintain the moisture and secure the seasonings.” He tore off a drumstick, held it up to his face, then bit into it. I pulled my phone from my pocket and took three shots, one more entertaining than the next. I posted them all as he put the drumstick on a waiting serving plate and added the pasta to the now rapidly boiling water.

“Glory be, somebody good lookin’ is cookin’ somethin’ up for ME. Don’t be fooled by the apron…he did this all on his own. Probably. I think. Honestly, I can’t say that I care either way even remotely because it is DELICIOUS.” #london #kitchen #this is what I came home from work to find #cooking with Tom #okay fine #it’s really watching Tom cook all I can make are eggs meatballs and desserts #ASK BOX IS OPEN

Since I was logged in anyway, I opened the ask box and set a reminder on my phone to close it fifteen minutes later. “Oh, before I forget…Luke wants you to come down tomorrow after lunch so we can go over your schedule for the next few months. And thank you again for making dinner. Is there something I can do to help?”

“Hmmm…crawl beneath my apron and pleasure me orally?”

I clapped my hands together and walked towards him. “Oh goody, is that my appetizer?!”

He laughed as I began to squat down, lifting me up by my elbows. “On second thought, perhaps you should set the table instead?”

Sighing, I gathered the plates we’d need from the cabinets, chose some silverware from the drawer and carried it all to the dining area. “I liked option A better.” I looked up from my task to find him draining the pasta over the sink. “I didn’t realize you actually bought anything yesterday. Is my brownie stuff lurking around somewhere? Should I make them? Oh, wait…I forgot. We have PIE. Banoffee pie.”

His head tilted comically. “You know what that is? Where did…”

I cut him off, chuckling. “I know what it is now. Simon and Luke brought one home for us…they got it last night when they were out to dinner. I can’t remember the name of the place, but…oh, Hidden Treasure, maybe? Treasures?”

“Treasure. Fantastic place, and one of Luke’s favorites. We’ll go sometime. Which type of meat do you prefer?”

“I’m sorry?” Lack of sleep had turned me into a moron with a mind that wandered haphazardly, and hearing him say ‘meat’ sent it straight to the cordoned off area marked SEX SEX SEX ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK PUN INTENDED.

“Light or dark? Breast, leg or wing?”

“OOHHHHHH…light. Breast, please.”

He grinned fiendishly, carving knife in his hand. “That’s my preference as well. I congratulate you on your incredibly refined taste.” I didn’t reply, standing stock still at the table with forks in my hand instead, staring down at them and wondering what came next. “Maude? You okay?”

I shook my head back and forth rapidly, attempting to clear the cobwebs. “Sorry. Yes. I’m just wicked tired, Tom.” I paused. “Why aren’t you tired, Tom?”

The chicken was spread neatly on a platter, the alfredo mixed and tossed with the fettuccine in a bowl, both held, on in each hand as he rounded the corner and placed them on the table where I’d arranged our plates across from each other, all the way at the end by his Jurassic Park poster. He took the forks from my hand, put them in their proper spot, then kissed my temple as he pulled out my chair. “Coffee, love. Lots of coffee. That’s why. Did you have any tea today, other than what you had at Mum’s?”

I sat, and he pushed me in toward the table. “Nope.”

He untied his apron and hung it over the back of the chair nearest his seat. “Well, it all makes perfect sense, then. That one was a decaf. It’s the only kind she drinks.”

“Well fuck me, that explains why I’m such a zombie. And a stupid one to boot. If that’s, like, possible.”

Tom walked back to the kitchen, returning with two Cokes and straws. “Would you like a glass for yours instead?”

“Nah, I’m cool.” I leaned forward and inhaled. “Tom, seriously, this is just…you’re amazing. Thank you, again. I love you. And not just because I’m STARVING and this smells SO FUCKING GOOD.”

He turned on his heel, stretching across the counter to grab the pepper mill. The sight of his thighs all taut and his muscles bulging took over as the reason for my extreme salivation.

We ate in silence, with the exception of a few quiet words here and there and the classical music playing softly in the background. I hadn’t seen him change anything, so I was rather baffled at where Daft Punk had gone off to, but decided I must have missed it and made a mental note to ask about it later. My phone alarm went off midway through, and I closed the Tumblr ask box without checking to see how many responses awaited me. Not enough neural neurons were firing to even consider evaluating them.

After we’d finished, as I helped him clear the table, Tom asked if I’d mind Luke and Simon popping over so he could speak with them about Jane sooner as opposed to later, and I agreed that it was better to just get it over with. He called Luke as I loaded the dishwasher, and ten minutes later our company arrived, just in time for dessert. Simon flopped on the left side of the couch with his slice of pie, setting a cup of coffee he’d brought with him on the table to his right. Luke took the armchair near the right side of the couch, and Tom and I sat with Simon, me in between them.

The pie was every bit as good as Simon had promised, but it, combined with how full I was from dinner, knocked me on my ass. I only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, my head bobbing forward as I dozed off periodically. As soon as Tom noticed he leaned back, put his arm around me, and rested my head on his shoulder. After that all I heard was Simon’s horrified screech and him saying, ‘Oh honey, I’m so, so sorry’, which I assumed was his reaction to Tom’s revelation about the abortion, and then I didn’t stir until I felt someone kissing my cheek who was wearing a cologne that wasn’t Tom’s. I opened my eyes to see Simon’s grey ones inches from my own.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead. You are one spectacular broad. We’re all very lucky to have you in our lives.”

I reached up and patted his cheek, heard the door close, then felt myself being lifted from the couch and carried up the stairs. I attempted to protest, but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t form words. Tom undressed me, removed his own clothing, and snuggled in behind me, his right forearm between my breasts, hand clasping my left shoulder, pelvis pressed against my ass, knees nestled in the crooks of mine.

“Sweet dreams, little spoon. Big spoon loves you.”

Lifting my leaden right arm just enough to place it over his, I patted his hand twice, listening to him hum Beethoven’s Ode to Joy quietly as I slipped away.


	32. Chapter 32

Six AM found me horribly awake as I crawled out from under both warm blankets and an even warmer Tom. I hadn’t gotten up at all during the night to pee, and it felt like my bladder was going to explode at any moment. Sitting naked on the bowl, the sound of me doing my business resembling Niagara Falls, I wondered what Simon had meant last night when he told me that I was one spectacular broad. When the flow finally stopped, I got up and decided I might as well get my ass going so I could be on time for work.

My toothbrush, which had been parked on the countertop, had apparently gone missing, so I began to open drawers, quickly discovering that Tom had put everything away in my absence yesterday…even my birth control pills had a home, tucked next to my boxes of contacts in the second drawer down. My ibuprofen had been stowed in the medicine cabinet, and though it was highly unlikely that anyone else would be using our bathroom, I smiled at his thoughtful attempt at preserving my privacy. I found the toothbrushes in the top drawer, both resting in a wedge-shaped holder.

“Damn. Look at that. Sharing a toothbrush holder. That’s a first.” I clamped my hand over my mouth, remembering that Tom was still out like a light, then walked over to close the door in case any other random nonsense escaped my pie hole.

After brushing was out of the way, I glanced into the shower enclosure and spied my soap and shampoo, also noting that two fresh towels were hanging on the rack just outside it.

“I like this living together thing. Suddenly I have a maid, housekeeper and chef who’ll bang me whenever I want.” As I walked over to close the toilet lid prior to sitting down to take off the ankle boot, I wondered what that made ME. “Inept, Maude. It makes you inept. Except at the banging part. Probably.”

The shower was hot, steamy and delightful. After finishing, albeit reluctantly, I dried off and rebooted…then it was time to play ‘guess where Tom put my underwear’. There was just enough light coming in through the windows to make searching possible, and I started with the dresser just outside the bathroom door. Nope. My T-shirts, top drawer. My shorts, second drawer. The other two contained Tom’s T’s and shorts, of which there were…less. I pulled out a pair of jean shorts and the Keep Calm and Kneel to Loki shirt I’d bought when we were in Hawaii, leaving them on the dresser surface until I donned some undergarments.

Walking as quietly as possible, I approached the dresser right next to the bed, opening the top drawer ever so slowly. He’d color coordinated both my underwear and bras, located respectively on the left and right sides, and I was certain that in both dressers his things had been on top previously. Gentleman through and through…although, based on my personal experience, he may have not had need of an underwear drawer at all so it very well could have been empty space. I didn’t see the black lingerie I’d arrived wearing, and it occurred to me I had not a clue where the laundry area was in the building. Or if there even was one.

Opting for a grey satin bra and panty set, I carried them and my shorts and T-shirt into the bathroom and closed the door once again so I wouldn’t rouse Tom. Because if I roused HIM, I’d rouse…other things. Which would make me late for work yet again. Really late. Really, really late.

It was quarter to seven when I went downstairs, my wet hair tied back in a loose ponytail. I scoured the living room to try and find the stereo Tom had been playing yesterday, but all I saw were speakers. My iPod would have to do. I kept it on shuffle, the volume up only midway, and set about earning my keep by making Thomas breakfast. Which I planned to deliver to him in bed. By seven-thirty, I had two passable bacon, egg and cheese omelets, buttered white toast and orange juices ready to go. Napkins and silverware were tucked into the pockets of my shorts, and I’d made room on the plates to set the glasses. He was still sleeping when I entered the room and set the goods down on the dresser, only his face peeking out from the covers, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth. I sat down next to him, running my index finger across his jaw. He swatted at it, but I pulled away before he could grab my hand. First one blue eye opened, then the other, the smile widening then turning to a frown when he realized I was fully clothed.

His hand found my bare knee, the worked its way up under my jean shorts to rest on my thigh, his thumb stroking the inner portion and making me regret my choice to be responsible. He spoke, voice deep and husky with just a touch of whine. “Why didn’t you wake me? What time is it?”

I booped his nose. “It’s going on eight. And I didn’t wake you because…”

He sat straight up, sniffing the air. “Do I…is that FOOD I smell?”

“It IS food. I made you breakfast. Feeling brave enough to try my cooking?”

Two kisses, the first on my forehead, then the other on my lips. “Absolutely.”

I pulled the silverware and napkins from my pockets and placed them on the bed, then walked over to grab the plates and brought them over. “Sorry, I couldn’t find any trays so we’ll have to wing it.”

He removed our orange juices and set them on the nightstand, then stared first at his plate then at me.

“Tom. You totally don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to. No worries…”

His head shook back and forth vigorously. “Oh, I’m eating it. It looks delicious. It’s just…I…I honestly can’t recall the last time I was served breakfast in bed. Not since I was a little boy and feeling poorly, anyway. Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me yet. Taste it first. And before I forget…thank YOU for putting all our stuff away yesterday. It was very, very cool to wake up and have my stuff in, you know, like, PLACES. Homey.”

The side of his fork broke off a piece of the omelet, then the tines pierced it and it was on its way to his mouth. In it went, and I waited for him to spit it out, but he instead chewed while making delightful little noises of approval and satisfaction. After swallowing, he patted the spot next to me, and I sat, plate in hand.

“Maude. Fucking fantastic. Truly.”

“Really?”

He took another huge bite, nodding until his mouth was no longer full. “Really. The eggs…they’re so fluffy, and the bacon’s so crumbly it nearly melts on my tongue…” His eyes turned downward, examining my creation further, then raising his gaze back to meet mine. “And it’s spicy, but I don’t see any peppers or onions…how…”

I laughed. “Please. Stop.” Stuffing a piece from my own plate into my maw, I chewed and raised the fork and my hand up to shoulder height. “You know, I guess it’s not bad. I put heavy cream in the eggs, as well as salt and black pepper but I couldn’t find any actual peppers so I added some mild taco sauce I found in the fridge.” His eyes widened. “Don’t worry, I checked the date. It’s fine.”

“What about the bacon?”

“What about it?”

He rolled his eyes. “The crumbly. How did you do that? I can’t do that.”

My fork rested on my plate as I patted his knee. “Yes you can. You bake it. In the oven. On a pan.”

“Baked bacon. Never thought about preparing it that way.”

I shrugged. “I love bacon. Fact. But I prefer it super well done…when it’s too floppy it grosses me out. I’ll still eat it anyway, because, bacon, but I don’t enjoy it half as much. And, another fact, I hate when grease from the frying pan spatters everywhere…baking eliminates that particular problem as well.”

He’d wolfed down the rest of his omelet while I spoke and was now gnawing on his toast. “Perfect amount of butter on this, too. Jig is up, woman. You can absolutely cook.”

Resisting an urge to lick the crumbs and smeared butter from his lips, I grinned. “If you’re okay with either eggs or meatballs for every meal, I’m your gal.”

Pointing at my shirt, he licked his own lips, then smirked. “You’re my gal irrespective of what you place before me to ingest. I love that shirt. And I love that you’re wearing it. And I’m GOING to love when you’re doing exactly what it says later.”

I grinned in return as I bit off a chunk of my own toast. “Um, if you’re in costume that’s a done deal. Just so you know.” My phone alarm dinged. “Fuck. It’s two minutes to eight. Gotta go.” As I stood I set my plate on the nightstand and picked up the juice to take a long, deep sip, set it down, then bent to kiss him. “Love you. Oh. The kitchen may be…erm, messy. Sorry about that.”

He laughed. “Well, I guess now I have something to fill my otherwise empty morning with. What time should I come down, do you think?”

“Probably one-ish? I don’t really know. Want me to ask Luke and text you?”

Standing and stretching, still completely nude, he yawned and embraced me. “No worries. I’ll ask him. I know you’re busy.” His lips found mine, and I slid my tongue along his and he sucked it into his mouth. Both my hands landed on his pecs and I pushed myself away.

“Go. Go. REALLY have to go. Love you.”

He chuckled. “Love you too. See you later.”

I waved my hand in the air behind me as I walked away, consciously avoiding looking back at his raging hard-on, though it pained me in more ways than one to do so.

****************************************

Waiting on my desk for me were my shiny new 9.7 inch silver iPad Pro and Alienware 15 laptop, with its gradient black, grey and silver case sporting the alien head logo and greenish-yellow lighting accents…even the keyboard lit up, which made me nerd-squee. The better part of a half an hour was spent unboxing, and I then brought them both downstairs with me so I could set things up while the kids finished watching my seminar. There is nothing, nothing in this world like the smell of new electronics in the morning…well, at least that USED to be true for me. The purveyor of my current favorite morning scent was, at the moment, somewhere above me doing god knows what. And probably doing it naked.

After answering any remaining questions, we broke for lunch. It was just before noon, and both Bridget and Matthias were craving McDonalds, which Lyssa graciously volunteered to trek out and fetch for us. The phone had been crazy all morning, and I figured her motivation was directly correlated with a desire to escape from the insanity. I wolfed down my two hamburgers and small sack of fries, then set to work on my chocolate milkshake. I’d ordered one for Tom as well, storing in the fridge after adding my cherry alongside his.

I headed upstairs with Luke at five of one, and he seemed genuinely surprised to see Tom sitting in the waiting area.

Luke gestured in my direction as he addressed Tom. “Mate, if I’d known this was all it would take to get you places on time I would have tracked her down AGES ago.”

Tom stood, clapping him on the back. “Oh how I wish you had.” He turned to me, smirking as I gave him the once over. Dark grey cargo shorts, black V-neck, khaki Vans. Heart-stoppingly gorgeous, in part because I was so delightfully familiar with what lurked underneath it all. “Hello, you.”

My right arm extended in an effort to divert his attention from my freshly-licked lips, and I presented him with his unrequested beverage. “Hi. Here. Have a milkshake.” Smooth, Maude. So smooth.

He grinned, fingers briefly caressing mine as he took it and noted the double fruit. “Aw, Maude, did you give me your cherry?”

A blush began furiously working its way up my neck as I recalled the expression his face had worn as he’d taken my actual cherry back on Kauai, and Luke, thank the universe, saved me from myself before I either said something stupid or died on the spot.

“Come on, you two. My office. We’ve got a veritable shit ton of dates to go over.”

He wasn’t kidding. Two stacks of paper nearly six inches high were dumped in front of Tom and me, containing all the info for appearances and premieres from late August through the end of October, when filming began on Skull Island.

“Let’s start at the top and work our way down, shall we?”

When we got to the middle of September after forty five minutes had passed, I couldn’t contain myself any longer.

“Luke, I have to ask…is this how you typically provide info for clients?”

He frowned slightly. “Not all the time, no. Usually I email the PDF files and we go over them in a videoconference. But if someone’s coming in to the office, yes, this is what we do.”

Resisting the urge to facepalm, I reminded myself that Luke had worked for an old-school firm and that he hadn’t been doing this very long. “So, if there’s a schedule modification or addition you have to redo the PDF and resend it? Or are you working of a doc file that you export to PDF?”

“We use Word. So, exporting.”

“I…I…it just seems so labor intensive and inconvenient. Wouldn’t it be simpler to use a calendar or something?”

Luke fished through the pile of papers and pulled out printed calendars for each upcoming month. “We do use calendars. I have all the client info on my master calendar, and then we put it on these for the client.”

I turned to Tom, who was seated next to me, both of us across from Luke. “So what do you do with all this information?”

He leaned back from the table a bit to pull out his phone. “I put it all in my calendar app. Here, see?” I glanced at the screen briefly. “But often I don’t have time to do that so I wind up just stuffing the papers in my backpack when I leave town.”

Groaning, Luke pointed at Tom. “And if I’m not travelling with him, I wind up having to call him the day before everything to make sure he KNOWS about it.”

Resting my head in my hands, I breathed deeply, then felt calm enough to speak without sounding like an asshole know-it-all. “So. Isn’t there, like some kind of industry software that will let you calendar share or something so you don’t have to do double and triple data entry?”

Luke nodded. “There is, but it’s all computer based and questions have been raised regarding its security, so we decided not to go that route. Plus, not all clients carry a laptop these days.”

My entire body went cold and tingly as I asked my next question. “And there’s no app that you’re aware of other than standard calendar ones that people are using?”

He shook his head. “There isn’t. We looked, believe me. You know everything we’re trying to do here is about pushing PR forward from a technological standpoint while maintaining a very personalized experience…”

For I don’t know how long, I just…disappeared, lost inside my head as I processed the implications of what he’d said and the potential that it revealed. An entire industry, an essential industry, without a way to provide anyone involved with a simple, comprehensive solution to schedule management. And then, just as Tom nudged me and asked if I was all right, I said them. The four words that could possibly change…everything.

“I…have…an…idea.”

The idea was an app, specifically designed for not only PR but all involved in the entertainment industry, one that would allow users to securely share info with one another in real time via a calendar format. It would be subscription based, all users would be required to verify their identities as well as their employment and professional status, and individual users would be able to add those they wished to share data with on a one time, set block of time, or continuously until modified basis. A simple click on a name would overlap calendars, each set of user entries assigned a different color and tagged with the user name, and another click would add the data to the user’s own calendar, with the option to do so one entry at a time or add everything all at once. Any user’s personal time would simply show up as that, so no details like ‘colonoscopy appointment’ would ever be visible. All entries would need to be marked as personal by default to prevent as many whoopsies as possible, and once an appearance, project or event was over, the data would be archived for a term set by the user. Tom and Luke listened patiently to my technobabble, but their eyes had gone a bit glassy and I figured it might be prudent to provide an example. Flipping over a piece of paper, I began to sketch an interface.

“Okay. Luke. This is your account. Over here on the left is a hide-able list of all the people you share with, and your data is on the calendar on the right. There’d be a search box up on the top above the names, too. Now let’s say you click on Tom’s name…his data now shows up on your calendar, all his personal stuff is greyed out so those slots can’t be edited, and so are his business appointments set by everyone other than you. If you just want to look at it, you look and then click his name again to make it go away. If you want to add it to your calendar so you can see it all the time, you click ADD ALL and boom, it’s now on your calendar in either a color you’ve chosen for Tom or one the app picked at random for you. If you want to edit or add something, you make the change, then click a SEND CHANGES button and it will notify Tom. If you want it to disappear, you click hide or something. This is all very rudimentary, and…”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “So…does this mean I could click on ALL my client names and overlap them on one calendar?”

I nodded. “That’s the plan, yes. So you can see it ALL. And Tom, if he wants, can see your info, upcoming film schedules, and so on all at once too.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “That’s it.”

My brows rose. “What’s it?”

He grinned and stole my pen and wrote across the top of the paper in his scrawl, then tapped on it with the other end of the pen. “The name of your app. MANAGEALL.”

I raised my hand for a high five. “Dude, that’s…that’s…GENIUS. I fucking love it.”

His hand touched mine, a tad on the gentle side but a respectable performance nonetheless. “Maude, your IDEA is what’s genius. Do you have any inkling how much easier this will make my life? And how much less Luke will have to resort to excessive alcohol consumption to cope?”

Luke snorted. “Dead on there, Tom.” He turned his gaze to me. “Maude, this is…it’s just incredible. It’s so perfect…is this something you can create yourself, do you think?”

“Yes and no. The interface cosmetically, that’s simple. And while I’m sure I can code an app, I’ve never done it before so there’d be like this HUGE learning curve.” I sighed. “Plus, with the small amount of time I’d have to devote to it, it would take me a year or more, at best. So I think we’d be better served if we look elsewhere…”

His head tilted to the side. “We?”

Raising my hands up to shoulder height, palms toward him, I leaned back in my chair a bit. “I totally understand if you don’t want to be involved in this, I just…”

Shaking his head, he leaned forward. “No, no, that’s not what I meant, I’d love to be involved, I’m just not certain how I fit in.”

“Um, you fit in as the owner of the PR agency that came up with the idea, Luke. I would have never in a billion years thought of this if you hadn’t hired me, so I’d like us to be in this together, fifty-fifty. If that works for you. Because I think it’s fair, and because…I think our best bet is to find a college student to get it done in an internship capacity with a full time position as Prosper’s IT manager awarded to them upon completion. It would have to be a decent salary as they’d be responsible for all the identity verifications, account logins, tech support, app updates and such, but I have to run all the numbers to see what we can do, exactly. Though I think a monthly subscription of one hundred a month isn’t out of line at all based upon the industry, and the product benefits. So at five hundred users we’re looking at a gross of fifty thousand a month, and we’ll need to pay all the overhead…we HAVE to outsource the servers because security needs to be someone else’s problem from the get go…”

I stopped talking abruptly when I realized they were both staring at me rather intently.

Luke cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, did you say fifty thousand a month? With five hundred subscribers?”

My eyes rolled automatically. “Yes. One hundred times five hundred is fifty thousand. Use your calculator if…”

He interrupted me. “Yes, yes, I know, it IS fifty thousand….it’s just…I’m…I…lord, Maude, I think we’d have twice that many signed up just from our client base and the people they’re involved with.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. It’s a huge complaint of everyone involved, from us to directors to stylists to film crews, that it’s so difficult to schedule things and the number one time-consuming task they have to deal with.”

Turning to Tom, I took a deep breath. “Is this your experience as well?”

A vigorous nod. “Oh, absolutely.”

Chin in my hands, elbows on the table, I mulled over the enormity of what I’d gotten myself into. “Shit. Well. Okay. My brain just did the math and if we eventually have, like, ten thousand users, which is probably a really big stretch…that’s…that’s…”

Luke snickered. “That would be a million gross. Monthly.” 

I flopped back in my chair, mind reeling and in desperate need of a cookie. Or shock therapy.

Tom’s hand gently settled on my left thigh as he turned and leaned forward to look into my eyes. “You okay? You’ve gone a bit pale…”

Shaking my head to clear it, I rested my hand on top of his. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m cool. Mildly terrified, but cool.” They laughed, and I resumed my fully upright position and began making a list of everything I needed to do, speaking as I wrote. “Okay, I need to look up all the tech schools in the country…you have those right? Because since we’re offering a job it’s probably best to stay within the UK. Eh, I’ll Google it. Then I’ll contact department heads and request CVs and demos from interested candidates…oh, shit, I have to draft a proposal first. And there will need to be NDAs drafted. And background checks, and interviews…” I paused, looking up and first at Luke, then Tom. “My god, what have I DONE?!”

Luke grinned. “Made early retirement an incredibly realistic prospect for both of us, that’s what.”

****************************************

The remainder of Wednesday was spent drafting proposals and pinpointing all the UK schools I could find that had appropriate tech programs. Tom ordered in pizza for dinner, and I reluctantly put my work aside at nine PM to devour half of it with him. He’d been sitting at the dining table with me the entire time instead of in his office, organizing the fall schedule and reading through Tumblr asks to decide which one he’d be answering. Turning his laptop toward me, he pointed at a blurb near the top.

“What do you think of this one?”

I scanned it quickly, then read it out loud. “’Dear Tom, what was your favorite American meal you had while filming in the USA?’ I like it. Show me the blog.” His brows rose. “Right click and open in a new tab.” He did, and I laughed. “’Ladytigrane. Tagline of ‘99 % reblogging, mostly Hiddles stuff. About me: Cross Madeline Kahn’s “Empress Nympho" with Carol Kane’s "Ghost of Christmas Present’. Oh, I love her already. Winner. Do you have an answer in mind?”

A devilish snicker, followed by his tongue snaking across his lips. “I’m assuming you’d advise against the answer I’d like to go with, which for the record, is…you. But since she specifically mentioned while filming, that’s not technically an accurate answer to her question. Thus, I figure I’ll go with southern fried chicken. Will you be my videographer?”

I’d been scrolling through the blog while he spoke, trying to tune out his innuendo. I looked up at him, still in his black V-neck and cargo shorts. “Dude, this woman is hilarious. You totally have to take off your shirt for this one. She’ll love it.”

Shrugging, he pulled it off over his head and tossed it on the floor as he stood. “Where do you want me?”

“Shut up.”

“All right. Let’s try this…where would you like me to stand?”

“Better. In front of the bookshelves?”

He walked over to them slowly, then turned to face me, grinning. “I’m ready.”

I glanced at his bulge as I opened my phone’s camera app. “I see that. Note to self…pan up. WAY UP. Okay, on three…two…one.”

His grin made my thighs quiver, and the way he waved, pecs flexing…no. Just no. “Hello again, Tumblr. Time to answer one of your questions…today we’ve chosen one from Ladytigrane…’Dear Tom, what was your favorite American meal you had while filming in the USA?’ Well, it’s certainly not an easy choice to make, but if I must…my answer is southern fried chicken. Which, mind you, I wasn’t permitted to indulge in very often as I was playing Hank Williams, but when I could…DIVINE. Thanks so much for all your questions, and for following. See you soon!” He saluted, and I stopped recording. Or so I thought. It was only later, going on one AM, when I went to post it that I noticed it was fifteen minutes long. Thank god I decided to investigate, because it had been on and recording every single bit of the noise we made when he pushed me down on the couch and fucked me senseless, finally stopping on its own when my phone ran out of storage space. Frantic editing ensued, and after posting it we decided to call it a night.

Thursday was chaos, the entire morning spent reaching out to all the schools I’d earmarked, sending proposals and requesting immediate responses as time was of the essence. Midway through our Chinese takeaway, Simon managed to extricate me from the premises under the guise of my not being able to choose my own clothing in order to show me my maid of honor dress on the sly. Lest Luke discover what we’d been up to, we, of course, had to find me a dress for Phaedra’s benefit event at the Cube. And, of course, one dress wasn’t enough so I wound up down three grand with two dresses and one fantastically cool pair of boots to show for it. And a serious caffeine high from the espresso Simon had convinced me I needed, which Thomas kindly helped me…work off.

We’d decided to close down the office early on Friday as nearly everyone was attending the benefit, and I was pleased that by three PM I had twenty-five responses in spite of the fact there’d be nothing I could do with them until Monday morning. Hedonism weekend awaited me, and nothing, NOTHING was going to stand in the way of my enjoying doing whatever the fuck I felt like doing. Even if it meant that I had to lock every single internet capable device in my office until Monday to keep my mitts off them.

It was after three-thirty when I finally climbed the steps to our flat, and as I entered, setting my bag down on the floor near the door, I could hear the shower going upstairs and Tom singing something, though I couldn’t make out the words. Diana and Emma would be arriving at around five-thirty, which gave us ample time to be at the Cube Gallery by six. Tom and I had spoken last night prior to dozing off about exactly what the event was, as no one had yet filled me in on the details. He explained that as soon as Phaedra’s work began acquiring even the smallest bit of notoriety, she decided to set up a scholarship fund for the Royal Academy Schools, which she had attended years prior…only seventeen applicants were admitted to the program annually, all students who had already achieved a BA in Fine Arts, most who’d been working in their field after graduation for several years. The RA was founded in 1769, and while the program offered three years of intensive study that was technically free, Phaedra wished to aid those who might shy away from pursuing their dream because they were unable to sacrifice the time required due to financial issues such as living and material expenses. Every penny taken in would be placed into the Royal Academy Windsor fund and distributed to any student who was accepted into the program and found themselves in need, and tonight’s event was the first instance of Phaedra using the proceeds from the sales of her creations as a contribution.

I opened the fridge and grabbed a Coke and the onion dip Tom had picked up yesterday, muttering as I searched for the potato chips.

“Crips, Maude. Over here they’re crisps. Crisps.” My head shook back and forth. “Yeah. That’s so not happening. Crisps is what happens to my brain after a night of no sleep because of too much sex.” I tore open the bag, removed the lid from the dip and stood at the kitchen counter while I snacked. By the time he came bounding down the steps in his running shorts and white T-shirt I’d eaten my way through half a bag of chips and nearly the entire container of dip.

His left brow rose as he leaned in to kiss me. “I’m going to wind up going out for more of that at some point this weekend, aren’t I?” His tongue passed my lips and entered my mouth briefly, smiling as he pulled away. “It’s quite good, actually.”

I grinned. “I promise to share next time. More than just, you know, essence of onion.”

He chuckled. “How was work?”

“Busy. Lots of respondents. So much to do…but I do NOT want to think about that. Otherwise Hedonism weekend will be a total bust. What time are your Mom and Emma coming again? Five-thirty, right?”

He nodded. “Correct. They’re checking into their hotel first…the Marylebone.”

We’d offered the spare room to them, and Tom had even cleaned just in case they accepted, stuffing all the contents of tubs and boxes haphazardly into the wardrobes, then piling the boxes and tubs in his study and closing the door. I wasn’t surprised that they’d declined…if given the option, I’d always choose the hotel myself as opposed to staying at someone else’s place. I glanced at the clock, noting with a grumble that it was ten after four.

“Guess I’d better get my sorry ass moving so I can attempt to look presentable.” I tossed the dip container into the garbage and rolled up the chip bag before returning it to the cabinet. The remainder of my Coke went down the drain, its housing into the recycling bin under the sink. He grabbed me from behind and whispered in my ear as he pressed himself against me.

“I can’t wait to see you in that dress.”

I spun around, poking a finger into his chest. I’d asked him not to look, because for some ridiculous reason I seemed to have grown fond of surprising him by wearing something he hadn’t seen before and was, god help me, PRETTY, which was inherently against my nature but whatever. “Dude, you peeked? You are SO AWFUL…wait, how do you know which one? You’re totally fucking with me, aren’t you?”

The shit eating grin on his face made me grin in return, and I shook my head as I turned and headed up the stairs to our bedroom, his eheheheheh-ing echoing as he fixed himself something for dinner.

One twenty minute shower later, I was naked and dripping on the hardwood as I debated whether or not to wear underwear with the Christopher Kane sleeveless bandage dress I’d chosen, with Simon’s help, though that had mainly consisted of him stating that it made my ‘tushie look fabulous’. It was totally funky, the dress fabric medium grey, horizontal piping of the same color, with a black and white zipper running up the entire length of its front. The hem reached to four or five inches above my knee, and I knew from trying it on that it was super tight.

Shrugging, I decided to go commando. “Thomas, your bad habits are already rubbing off on me.”

He yelled up from downstairs, the smell of some sort of meat wafting up and assaulting my nose. “Babe? Do you need something?”

I shouted. “NOPE, THANKS…JUST TALKING TO MYSELF. SORRY!”

I’d taken off the walking boot before showering and replaced it with the ankle brace Tom had gotten for me afterward, surprised that I was able to put enough weight on my right foot so that I could almost-kind-of-sorta hobble without hopping. Tossing the white satin bra I’d chosen on the bed, I worked on drying myself off, then wrapped my hair in the towel hoping it would make dressing simpler. It didn’t. No matter how hard I tried, I was never, ever dry enough to put on a fucking bra without discomfort and/or incident. Once the fucker was finally twisted into its proper place, I slipped into the straps and leaned over to stuff my tits into a reasonable approximation of where they belonged. Then it was over to my section of the wardrobe to unzip the garment bag that held the dress of the moment. Getting that on was super simple since it was essentially a long sleeveless vest. Next, it was boot time. I carried them over to the couch, sat, and slipped on the left one, quickly zipping it so I could move on to the fun part. Holding my breath unconsciously, I gingerly slid the toes of my right foot into place, then lowered my heel. Tolerable, thanks, in part, to the ibuprofen I’d taken earlier.

“M’kay…let’s zip it.” Again, tolerable. “Now, stand.” Up I went, and I took one small step, then another, and I was…walking. Slowly, somewhat painfully, but…walking. Walking into the bathroom, standing as I towel dried my hair some more, standing as I tackled the whole makeup bullshit thing. Foundation, dark grey shadow, black liner, mascara, deep, dark red lipstick. The dress probably demanded a ponytail or bun, but I decided to leave my hair loose, hanging to the middle of my shoulder blades. I’d even brushed it and used a tiny bit of Tom’s styling gel to make it behave. 

Tom had stashed my jewelry in the bottom drawer of the dresser nearest the bed, and I pulled out my black tourmaline necklace and the bracelet he’d had made for me. I’d just finished fastening the necklace when I heard him coming up the steps. He walked through the door and froze momentarily until a lopsided smile began to spread across his face.

“You. Look. Amazing.”

I placed my right hand on my hip and lapsed into my southern accent. “Why thank ya, Mr. Hiddleston.”

He circled me, freezing again when he was mostly out of sight. “Good god…your ass…” A hand passing gently over my left hip and butt cheek, followed by a groan. “No underwear. I’m a dead man walking. Again.”

Snorting, I turned toward the wardrobes, walked over and sat on the couch. “Can I hang out while you get dressed?”

He leaned over, hands on the cushion to either side of me, face nearly touching mine. “Want a show, do you?”

I glanced at the clock…ten after five. “Hmm…raincheck? I’d like it to go on for a good long while and there needs to be music and…”

Rising to his full height, he shrugged as he pulled down and stepped out of his shorts and whipped his T-shirt off over his head. First he donned a white button down shirt, then black dress pants…watching him tuck IN the shirt was pure porn. And grace. Right. Grace. Porngrace. He tied his black leather tie while looking in the mirror, and once that was just as he wanted it to be he slipped into a dark grey suit jacket, finally sitting next to me to put on his dark grey shoes.

He rubbed against me with his shoulder. “We match.”

“Yes. I noticed. It’s both adorable and vomit inducing.”

Standing and grinning, he held his hands out to help me up. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Fuckin’ A, man.”

We walked downstairs, me lagging behind, to wait for his family’s arrival. I dug around in my bag to find my phone, wallet and keys…things he’d be storing in his pockets since I had none and there was no way I was carrying a purse…when I came across the item that had arrived earlier in the day. Which I’d completely forgotten about. I hid it behind my back as I turned around, managing to go unnoticed as he was busily typing away on his phone, attempting to get Diana to text back with their ETA. I walked across the kitchen to where he was leaning on the counter and stood directly in front of him, clearing my throat when he didn’t acknowledge my presence immediately.

His left brow rose as he glanced up from the screen. “How may I be of assistance?”

I nodded. “I have something for you.”

A smirk. “Yes, you do. But they’ll be here any minute and…”

“No, jerky. Not that. Well, YES that but not…oh, for fuck’s sake just close your eyes and hold out your hands, okay?”

He did as I asked, and I very carefully placed the 12” vintage Indiana Jones doll, new in its package, that I’d ordered on eBay Tuesday morning into his waiting hands. It had come from the US, and the upgraded fast shipping was outrageously expensive, but I couldn’t stand the idea of waiting weeks for it to arrive. His fingers closed around it, his closed eyes moving beneath their lids as he caressed the cardboard and plastic trying to determine what it was he was holding.

“You may now open your eyes, Thomas.”

The expression on his face when he realized…I knew I’d never forget it, even lifetimes from that moment if I still possessed the ability to think. He was stunned, then beautifully, angelically childlike…I swore I got an actual glimpse of young Tom…followed by wistful, and then the joyous weeping began.

His eyes met mine, and I found myself biting the inside of my lip so I wouldn’t cry as well as I spoke. “I know it’s not the same Indy, but I thought maybe having another one would make you miss yours less.”

Tom set the box down on the counter and pulled me to his chest. “Thank you. My god. This is just…I…I never thought I’d ever see him again, and there he is, and it doesn’t matter that it’s not specifically MINE because honestly who knows it could be him re-boxed and yes I’m that much of a little boy that I believe in such…”

“Magic. I know.” I pulled back and wiped his tears with my thumbs. “You can’t keep crying though because then I’ll cry and makeup, man. Makeup.”

He kissed me, softly, hands slipping to cup my ass and just as I opened my mouth his phone beeped.

Sheepishly, he picked it up off the counter. “Sorry. It’s Mum and Emma. They’re here.”

He stood, waiting with the door open for them to come upstairs, hugging both of them tightly as they entered the flat. Diana and I said our hellos, her black slacks, deep purple dress shirt and black blazer making her hair stand out beautifully. When I extended my hand to Emma she bypassed it and embraced me instead, her shoulder length blonde hair smelling of strawberries, a perfect complement to her floral print tank dress, its navy blue background showcasing the tiny daisies and greenery that comprised the pattern. She leaned away, hands resting on my shoulders, her beautiful blue eyes staring into mine, strong jaw softened by her smile.

“Maude, it’s so lovely to finally meet you. Mum and has told me so much I feel like I already know you…”

My brain stuttered, imagining what THOSE conversations had been like, but I recovered before the timing of my reply became awkward. “Lovely to meet you too, Emma. Your dress is beautiful.”

Her grin widened, and I saw a bit of Tom in it. “Thank you! Yours is gorgeous, by the way. And those boots are so very cool. I’m not good at cool, sad to say. I try, but I always end up looking…uncool.” She laughed, and in that there was no Tom at all. Genetics. Such a strange, fascinating thing.

They’d come over in the car Tom had arranged for, but just as we were headed out Tom stopped us in order to show Diana and Emma his newly acquired friend, holding him out in front of himself, once again a boy in a man’s body.

“Look what Maude got me…isn’t he FANTASTIC?”

Diana glanced my way, smiling brightly. “My lord, I remember when your friend never returned him and then moved away…”

Emma reached out to touch the package. “Me too…you cried for weeks.” She turned to me. “That is just the sweetest thing, you tracking this down for him…”

Words would not come, and when they did they all seemed wrong so I refrained from speaking them. Tom sensed my mild panic and set Indy back down. “All right, let’s move this along so we’re not late.” He turned to me, winking, and I mouthed ‘thank you’.

The car was actually a huge Range Rover with the rear turned into a sort of limo, and I instantly questioned my choice to go commando. Tom helped me up and in, blocking any view of me, then sat next to me. Diana and Emma sat across from us, and once we buckled in it was off to the Cube, me wondering the entire time if I’d manage to get OUT of the vehicle with providing the paps and/or fans with a full on shot of my beaver. And then I had to wonder how much they’d GET for it from the media, and if I’d be bummed if it turned out no one was interested enough in said beaver to actually PAY.


	33. Chapter 33

TITLE OF STORY: Your Light in the Mist  
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 33  
AUTHOR: http://maevecurrywrites.tumblr.com/  
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom  
GENRE: Humor/Romance/Angst  
FIC SUMMARY: Maude Gallagher is a social media consultant to PR firms, speaking at a conference in Kaua’i, Hawaii. Tom Hiddleston is on Kaua’i as well, preparing to shoot Skull Island. After their paths cross, they can’t deny that there’s a connection between them that neither has felt before. Will they be able to reconcile their issues from the past and live the life they’ve longed for, or will everything they’ve worked to build crumble under the weight of it all?  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Angst.  
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: The Cube event, wherein someone unexpected makes an appearance. Feedback is very, very appreciated, and THANK YOU for reading.

The entire block surrounding 16 Crawford Street had been closed to accommodate the event, and when we pulled up to the drop off point I was intrigued to see that the building was a converted four story space, much as our place was. The entrance remained intact as a storefront, white exterior walls with a grey door and trim. The sign simply read ‘Cube Gallery’ with a red outline of a square to the right of the text. An abstract painting in shades of orange, green, black and blue hung in the display window, all lines and swirls and dots, lit from above. It was difficult to see from inside the Range Rover, but it appeared that a display of jewelry or metal work lay beneath it on a white background. 

Two small velvet ropes had been run on the property lines, blocking the sidewalk and extending halfway into the street. Towards the front, assisting guests exiting their vehicles so the drivers could remain in place to speed things along, were four burly security guards. Behind the ropes were the onlookers, and the paps, though there didn’t seem to be more than a hundred total. Diana exited first, then Emma, followed by Tom, who again blocked any potential nether region view with his body as he took my forearm and guided me out and onto the sidewalk. Flashes strobed, his name was shouted over and over, and when fans began to ask for pics he turned to me.

“Do you mind if we spend a few minutes out here?”

I shook my head. “Fuck no. Have at it.”

He went up one side and down the other, smiling and shaking hands and hugging, holding out phones at ridiculous lengths for selfie after selfie. I hung back, trying to stay out of the way of other arrivals, until Tom waved me over, grinning and pointing at a young woman.

“This is Trudy. She’s here for you, not me.”

Trudy blushed profusely, the shade complimenting her long, straight blonde hair. “Oh, oh…Tom, I do enjoy your work and am absolutely a fan…” He laughed, and I extended my hand to her.

“Hi Trudy. Nice to meet you.” She accepted, her own hand clammy but her grip very firm. She was full figured, wearing a black T-shirt with a string of binary code printed on it and baggy, well-worn jeans. I leaned back for a better view of the numbers, snorting with mirth when I realized what they translated to. “Oh, how I LOVE your shirt. I see dumb people. Epic.”

Her jaw dropped open as she released my hand, then closed as she smiled bashfully. “Thanks. That’s…it’s…kind of why I’m here. And I’m SO sorry for bothering you on your night out. I’m Professor Johannsen’s PA, over at LSST and…”

I recognized the name…Anthony Johannsen, head of the Computing and IT department at the London School of Science and Technology…one of the many I’d contacted regarding app development, though I couldn’t imagine why he’d sent his personal assistant to a private event to flag me down as opposed to replying to my query via email or phone.

“…he assigned me the task of deciding upon the best student candidates for referral and when I saw your name I did a double take, then a triple take and I researched and confirmed that you are really, truly the Maude Gallagher who went by the name of CodeHex and won a Black Badge at the DEF CON hacking competition three years running starting back in 1999. You cracked a DOD level server in less than five minutes…and you are my HERO and I can’t believe I’m standing here actually TALKING to you…”

As she spoke, the crowd had begun screaming for Emma Watson, and Tom had wandered back over to stand at my shoulder, quietly listening in.

My brows rose as I shook my head slowly back and forth. “Wow, CodeHex. It’s been a really, really long time since I’ve heard that name. And of course I now have to ask you how the hell you KNEW it…you’re much too young to remember…”

She chuckled. “I’m not as young as I look. I was fourteen in 1999, already completely obsessed with coding and hacking and your name was everywhere. And when you WON, it was just the most amazing thing because you’re a WOMAN and there weren’t many of us on the scene back then and you’ve been a huge inspiration in my learning, well, essentially everything I’ve taught myself over the years. You’re…you’re a LEGEND. Anyway. I know you’re looking for a college student to develop your app but I just had to come down to see if there’s any possible way you’d consider someone who isn’t. I’m a PA by day, but I freelance in my spare time and I’ve worked with several game companies and…”

I put my hand on her arm, squeezed, then released. “Say no more, Trudy. I’ll absolutely consider you as a candidate. You have my contact info?”

“Oh, yes…yes…I do.” She’d gone pale, and I was afraid for a few moments that she was going to pass out.

“Good. Send me your CV and let me know where I can check out samples of your work…tonight, if you can.”

A shadow crossed her face. “I should be up front so I don’t waste your time…I never finished at Uni, so I don’t have a degree…”

The yelp-laugh that I uttered visibly startled her. “Me, either.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Everything I’ve ready said you went to NYIT.”

“I went, yes. But, like you, I never finished.”

Simon’s voice calling my name distracted me, and I turned to my right just in time to receive a giant bear hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Maude you look FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC and that nasty boot is gone…but enough about you, look at me. Tell me how much you love my suit. TELL ME.”

Returning my attention to Trudy, whom I was nearly ready to hire on the spot despite the fact that I’d yet to discover her last name, the left corner of my mouth turned up as I shrugged. “Sorry. Duty calls. I’ll be in touch Monday.”

She exhaled loudly, nodding. “Okay. Okay! Thank you, so, so much!” As I joined Tom, Luke and Simon to walk into the Cube, I heard her talking on her phone. “Bert? You are NEVER going to believe this…”

Luke held open the door, Simon entering first, me next and Tom bringing up the rear. He leaned forward and spoke in my ear over the din. “CodeHex, eh? Care to share the origin of your nom de plume?”

“It’s not a pen name. It’s a handle. Sheese. You’re such a noob. The Code is for code, and the Hex is for hexadecimal. I’ll tell you what that means because I suspect you don’t already know, Mr. Nom de Plume. Binary code is all numbers and hard for people to read easily and quickly. Hexadecimal notation bundles up the binary into a user-friendly package. Plus, Hex is also a play on words because there was no server I couldn’t hack and people thought there had to be magic involved and that was my Goth wear all black and look scary period and as a result I may or may not have been called a witch from time to time.”

A deep chuckle, followed by his Loki voice. “Oh, I like this.”

I elbowed him in the ribs as Phaedra finished hugging Simon and eyed me as her next target. She looked straight out of Vogue in a Pucci print maxi dress, vertical stripes he’d twisted into sweeping swooshes, patterned in a variety of traditional and amoebic shapes of army green, red, pink, electric blue, black, white and teal. As soon as my fingers touched her back I realized it was velveteen, the texture of which I’d always loved. Soft, yet minus the strangeness of actual velvet, which to me was as awful as the sound of nails on a chalkboard, touching it often causing my body to react similarly at the sensation.

“Maude, love, so glad you’re here. Thanks for coming.” She leaned back, hands on my shoulders. “Oh, that dress suits you perfectly. Stunning, you are.”

As she released me, I pointed at her attire. “That’s a Pucci, isn’t it? Velveteen? It’s incredible.”

“You’re correct. It’s on loan from a museum…from his 1964 line, inspired by a trip he’d taken to Africa several years prior. And I agree, it’s incredible. Now as long as I don’t sully it with red wine, all will be well.” Her name rang out from across the room. “Must circulate to maximize sales…see you later.”

She took three steps in the direction of the voice, then turned back to Tom when she realized she hadn’t greeted him. “Oh, hello there, handsome. Apologies for ignoring you in favor of your beautiful girl. You look stunning as well. Forgive me?”

Tom laughed. “Forgiven. Lord knows I can’t blame you.”

The main floor was set up as the reception area, complete with a table of finger foods and waitstaff dressed in black tie cruising the crowd with trays of champagne and wine. We decided to see the basement level exhibit first, and the second my foot hit the last step Simon appeared in front of me, his face leaning in until it was inches from mine.

“I’ve been so patient…two glasses of wine patient…now tell me how much you love my SUIT.” He stepped to the side to allow me to get off the stairs and onto the hardwood floor, then pulled me two feet to the left. The sleeve of his admittedly glorious 1940’s style maroon with black trim formal smoking jacket grazed my elbow and I cringed.

“Oh god…Simon your jacket…it’s…it’s…velvet. Ugh.”

His right hand flew to his hip. “Woman, are you out of your mind? Velvet is so IN. And this is VINTAGE.”

He’d paired it with a white button down shirt, a black tie, black trousers and black and white wing tips, and he resembled a Greek god with his grey eyes boring into me, but if he touched me again with the fucking thing I knew I’d scream.

“I love the jacket. It’s beautiful. And you look straight out of GQ, the World War II era special edition. But velvet…” I shuddered. “I HATE the way it feels.”

Before the words left my mouth I knew I’d erred grievously. The evil grin that appeared upon his hearing them made me want to run and hide, and when he leaned against me and rubbed himself up and down my bare arm it took all I had to not scream. Instead, I clenched my teeth and spoke through them, as calmly as I could muster.

“Dude, if you keep doing that I’m going to start using horrifically inappropriate language, which would constitute as a rather significant embarrassment to your future mother in law so, you know, if that’s your goal then…”

He ceased immediately. “Well, well…the mother in law card. That’s some serious game right there, Maudie. Color me impressed. And starving. Want anything from the feeding trough?”

“Yes.”

His head tilted to the side. “What do you want, specifically?”

“All of it.”

The laugh that I loved, so like the roar of a majestic beast, turned heads our way. “I’ll see if they have a wagon. And an elevator.” He grabbed Luke by the elbow, who looked perfectly dapper in a deep blue suit with a maroon tie that matched Simon’s jacket, and dragged him up the stairs before he could say anything to me other than a hurried hello.

Tom and I perused the collection of Phaedra’s artwork, all done in a wide variety of mediums…pencil sketches, pastels, watercolors, oils…some abstract, some still life, some landscapes. One in particular struck me, a watercolor of a beach at night, a full moon in the sky and reflecting on the rippling water, whitecaps rolling in toward the shore. There was something written in the sand, but half of it had been erased by the tide, as would, eventually, the footprints…two sets, walking toward the water, and walking away. The price card indicated that it was three hundred pounds, with a notation that donations above that would be more than welcome.

Turning my head, I looked up to meet his gaze, my brows raised. “I’m feeling an overwhelming need to make a charitable contribution right about now. You?”

He nodded, arm slipping around my waist. “You know what? I am. There’s a perfect spot for it on the wall between the bathroom and my study, I believe. I’ll go find someone to mark it for us.”

I watched him walk across the room, heading towards the back behind the stairs, standing there like an idiot until his sister Emma tapped me on the shoulder.

“Find anything you like?”

I pointed at the beach scene. “Yep. This one. Tom went to go find the clerk.”

Emma gazed at it, tilted her head, then smiled. “It’s lovely. Have you seen Phaedra’s jewelry yet?”

“No, actually…”

She grabbed my forearm. “Come, let me show you. It’s on the second floor.”

We walked up the steps to the main level, then up another set and turned into a room lined with tables and display mannequins. I didn’t have a clue where to look first, everything was shiny and glittering and beautiful and I instantly magpied out. There were necklaces of gold and silver, some chokers and some hanging to waist level, armbands, leg cuffs, and so much more…the quality of metalworking was astonishing, and the majority of the stones she used were in their natural state, or polished. I gravitated to a double-strand banded silver choker necklace with a triangular piece of hematite suspended in the center, delicately wired in between the bands with copper strands that created a web-like effect. Every inch or so was a twist of copper, also between the bands, a thicker gauge that helped the item maintain its shape. They tiny paper tag was marked two hundred pounds, which I thought was ridiculously low when I imagined how much work had gone into the piece. Phaedra’s voice startled me as I gently fingered the silver.

“I am not at all surprised that you’re drawn to that one, Maude.”

My brow furrowed as I spun to look at her. “You know, I’m of the opinion that you’ve priced this way too low, even for this sort of event. This is…it’s just incredible. Your metalworking skills are outrageous. And yeah, this is so right up my alley it’s not even funny.”

She laughed. “If I’m honest, jewelry is where the heart of my passion resides. I do tend to price low, I think perhaps because I’m anxious for the pieces to begin their new lives. As ludicrous as that may sound.”

I shook my head. “Not ludicrous at all. Can you mark me down for this, or do I need to have a clerk take care of it?”

She nodded. “I can…”

“Good, but put me down for five hundred. I love what you’re doing with the Windsor Fund. If you ever want a website, just let me know. On the house, of course.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s extremely generous of you…once this exhibit closes, I’d love to sit down and discuss it. Let me know when you have time, if you don’t mind?” She grinned. “Now, I have a few rings that would go perfectly with that necklace…what size are you?”

I shrugged. “Um…a nine, maybe? I’m not really a ring person anymore, though I used to wear them all the time when I was in my mid-twenties. And now that I think about it, I have no clue why I stopped.”

Emma had remained silent during my exchange with Phaedra, finally clearing her throat and joining in, her head shaking back and forth slowly. “Oh, I can’t imagine that you’re a nine. Here, hold your hand next to mine.” I did as she asked, and her fingers were a bit thicker. “I’m an eight. Phaedra, try a seven.”

Flashing back to a decade ago, I recalled that I had indeed been at least a nine…but I had also been ninety-some odd pounds heavier, so it would make perfect sense that my ring size would no longer be the same. Not like a shoe size, Maude. Nope.

Phaedra was back behind the table, digging around underneath it, finally emerging with a one centimeter wide plain sterling silver band inlaid with small triangles of hematite and copper. She held it out to me, smiling proudly. “Here you are. And if it fits, I’m throwing it in with the necklace at no additional charge.”

I slipped it on my right ring finger, deciding that I was opening quite a can of worms by accepting it because it would mean I’d have to start painting my nails again regularly, as my hand looked unfinished with the au naturel style combined with such a lovely piece of artwork. “It’s perfect. Thank you. I love it.”

As I removed it and returned it to her to be mated with the necklace so they could be readied for pickup, I noticed at the edge of my vision Phaedra and Emma exchanging a nearly imperceptible conspiratorial smirk/glance combo. I was just about to question them when Diana stuck her head through the door.

“Phaedra, your darling boy is looking for you…a Mr. Albright has him cornered downstairs and is asking him endless questions about an abstract that he feels completely unqualified to answer.”

We all headed out the door together, and without warning I felt entirely overwhelmed and completely out of my element, surrounded by three women who’d been a part of Tom’s far longer than I had. A bathroom break seemed like the perfect escape. I turned to Emma.

“Where’s the nearest restroom, do you know?”

She pointed to the end of the hallway, past the room we’d been in. “There’s one back there, though it’s…how do I say this tactfully? Erm…dated. One on the main floor too, if you’d rather…”

“I’m sure it’s fine. New York is loaded with archaic facilities so I’m used to it. Plus…kinda can’t wait.”

Giggling, she patted my arm. “I’ll let Tom know where you’ve gotten off to if I see him.”

I smiled. “Thanks.” She dashed away to catch up with Diana and Phaedra, and I walked down the hallway and opened the last door on the left. The bathroom was tiny, barely room for the toilet and sink, which did appear to date back from the late nineteen-forties. The walls were mint green, and the door was also original, warped as many become over time, and not very thick. It wouldn’t close without sliding the added bolt, its Victorian style lock long since defunct. I could hear voices from the jewelry room and beyond, though the distance was too great to discern more than just vague syllables.

Sighing as I sat on the closed toilet lid, I put my head in my hands and muttered quietly to myself. “Well, if I have to crap, I know I’m not using this bathroom.”

Footsteps rang out, then grew muffled as they entered their given destination and I took deep breaths, trying to remind myself that it was totally normal to be a nervous wreck when you were left alone with your boyfriend’s mother and sister and the mother of your boss who also happened to be close friends with your boyfriend’s mother and well acquainted with said boyfriend. More footsteps, two or more sets, these not muffling, coming all the way down the hall toward the bathroom. I was on the verge of shouting OCCUPIED when I heard a woman’s voice.

“Tom? Tom Hiddleston? Oh, it is you! Hello! How are you?”

My first thought was holy fuck, I hope that’s not a stalker or something even though I knew the event was invite only, so I stood and took the two steps required to reach the door and pulled the bolt, peeking out of the one inch crack to see what the deal was. Tom’s back was to the rear wall, his profile clearly visible, and an attractive, model-thin woman stood opposite him, dark curly hair hanging more than halfway down her back, wearing a tiny skin-tight black tank dress that barely covered her ass, as far as I could tell from the angle her body was positioned in. Four inch black patent stilettos graced her feet, making her only four inches or so shorter than Tom, and a bright red Chanel bag was draped over her left arm, its shade matching her lipstick and fingernails perfectly.

He smiled, and I could tell from his stance he wasn’t completely at ease but not freaked out. “Hello.” His head titled to the side. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

Her eyes widened, lips clamped together angrily, right hand shifting to her hip. The volume of her voice when she spoke made him flinch. “Are you serious? Have we MET? Last year, right before you left to film, we spent an entire weekend holed up in my flat, fucking each other’s brains out. The couch, the shower, the floor, the kitchen table, even on top of the washer for fuck’s sake…and you haven’t the slightest idea who I am, do you? It’s Silvia Delacroix, by the way. God, you disgust me…what an utter arsehole you are, treating women like they’re pieces of meat…disposable, just use them up and toss them in the bin for someone else to collect. Saying you care about them, that you’ll be in touch but having zero intention of following through once you get what you want.” The hand that had rested on her hip rose to shoulder height, arm extending backwards, then flew forward to connect with his left cheek. “The entire world thinks you’re this kind, gentlemanly feminism-supporting scholar… but what you really are is a lying, womanizing FRAUD. I pity that new girlfriend of yours…she has no idea what she’s gotten herself into.”

She turned on her heel and marched down the hallway, Tom remaining in place, his jaw clenching, hands in his pockets. Then entire time she’d been speaking I’d wanted to fling open the door and jump into the fray, but the emotions her words stirred in me were so volatile that I was reasonably sure I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I got involved. Now that she was out of my immediate vicinity, I pushed opened the bathroom door and stepped out, and when he saw me out of the corner of his eye he spun around to face me, eyes blazing with anger and shame.

“I’m assuming you heard all that.”

I nodded, moving forward, closing the distance between us slowly.

He inhaled sharply. “Do you want to leave?”

There was nothing but silence between us as I contemplated his question, my eyes leaving his face, a red handprint upon it, and looked to my right down the hall. Silvia was nowhere in sight, but there were five or six people looking in our direction, trying to do so without staring but failing miserably. My heart was pounding, blood boiling with rage, not at Tom, but at the fact that someone would have the audacity to behave in such a manner at a charity event. Then again, if I took her perspective into account, I might have done the same thing. But…why had she waited? Why did it matter NOW? And since she mentioned me, she was obviously aware that another woman was in the picture, which made it seem that this might have been a calculated effort on her part, an attempt to publicly embarrass him. And me as well. The worst part was that even though I knew his state of mind during the point in time when he’d…been…with her, the green eyed monster was poking at me and I was fighting a losing battle as I tried to shove him back in his cage.

My gaze returned to meet his, panic now mixing with the anger and shame. “Yes, I want to leave. But I don’t think it’s the right choice to make, for Phaedra, the Windsor fund, or you, from a PR perspective. So, we should stay. Can you do that?”

His jaw clenched again, and he reached out to touch my arm. “Maude…I…”

I held my hand up, palm toward him in a ‘stop’ gesture. “No. Not here. Later.”

He winced as though I’d slapped him, and I recognized that my tone had been entirely too sharp, shrill and bordering upon nasty. The jealousy talking, and that was all me…not a thing to do with him. I placed that same hand on his chest, over his heart, staring fixedly into his eyes, my voice hushed. “I’m not angry with you.”

Nodding, he took my hand and we walked down the hall, then down to the first floor to join Luke and Simon, the latter handing me a giant plate of snacks, which I gagged down even though my appetite had totally abandoned me.

****************************************

The next two hours were downright painful as we both attempted to conduct ourselves as if we were having a perfectly fine time. My co-workers and I had a stimulating chat about the superior quality of the champagne and wine I wasn’t drinking, and I used Emma Watson as a diversionary tactic, Simon and I questioning her about what she was expecting from performers. When we asked if she’d rather us do a duet or separate numbers, she clapped like a little kid and yelped ‘BOTH! Why not BOTH?’ By nine or so things had started to wind down, red ‘sold’ dots by nearly every piece of the exhibition, guests filtering out bit by bit. Diana was aware that Tom wanted to speak with his sister, and at nine-thirty she feigned sleepiness and asked if it was alright if we headed out. The car came round, we piled in, then piled out when we reached 50 York Street. After passing through the main door, I executed the plan I’d devised while pretending to be interested in human conversation at the gallery.

“If you all don’t mind, I’m just going to stop in the office for a while to see if the gal who came to meet me at the Cube sent along her CV and examples of her work.”

Diana patted me on the arm and gave me a ‘That’s fine, dear.’, and from her expression I garnered she thought it was simply because I wanted to give them some privacy. I had intended on being there to support Tom, but over the course of the evening, the more I thought about what he was going to have to say and to whom, coupled with the whole Silvia thing, the more I realized it was a far, far better thing for me to not be a participant.

Emma looked confused, but nodded, and Tom pulled me into an embrace. I whispered ‘Sorry. I can’t.’ into his ear and he whispered ‘I know. It’s alright.’ in return, his voice breaking on the last syllable as he released me. I turned and unlocked the office door, closed it behind me, went into my office, sat at my desk and wept. Which was beyond fucked up, because I honestly didn’t have any reason to be weeping. Nothing had changed, other than someone behaving like an immature asshole, and I was fully aware of the way Tom had conducted himself after his time with Jane had ended…so it shouldn’t have surprised me, at all.

Yet there I sat, boo-hooing like a big, selfish jerk. A big, selfish JEALOUS jerk. I’d faced down the woman he’d been in a long term relationship with, the woman who’d broken his heart and destroyed his life, without so much as a sniffle, but seeing someone he’d spent a weekend with that he didn’t even remember…waterworks and misery.

Perhaps it was that she’d actually spoken, loudly and clearly, about where they’d fucked. Perhaps it was that she was stunningly beautiful, thin, and carried herself as if she owned the world. Or, as the green-eyed monster kept insisting, perhaps Tom had just pretended to not know her. Maybe he remembered her all TOO well, and he’d remained silent only because I was right there. If I hadn’t been there, would he have still said nothing? Or would he have complimented her dress, her hair, then dragged her into the bathroom and fucked her up against the sink, his hand over her mouth to keep HER silent.

I got up and headed to the restroom, still choking back sobs as I used the toilet. Seeing my face in the mirror, makeup running from cheek to chin, I burst out laughing.

“Well, imagine that, Maude…all you need is a drink in your hand and you’ll have time-travelled back to 1997.” I held up my left index finger. “Irrational, paranoid, dripping with self-pity bitch, table for one, please!”

After cleaning myself up, I returned to my desk and sought solace in the thing that always brought me around round to logic…work. Trudy, newly revealed surname of Klein, had sent her info, and when I tested the games and apps she’d worked on I was blown away. She’d even designed a scheduling app for the university that was similar to what I wanted to develop. I forced myself to scan a few other CV’s, but knew in my heart that she was the one, so I gave up on work and went back to brooding.

The brooding led me down the worst path possible for someone experiencing jealousy. I Googled Silvia Delacroix. And I found her Facebook page. After pulling it up…all downhill at warp fucking speed from that point forward.

Her most recent post, from earlier in the evening read ‘Well, ladies, off I go to steal back my actor. And if he’s not interested, plan B – REVENGE.’

 

Of course I kept scrolling her feed, reading things from the past week.

‘Got my dress. He won’t be able to resist. Like to see the tubby girlfriend wear this little number, LOL.’

 

‘Friend came through with an invite, I’m going to be her plus one…YAAAASSSS!’

 

‘Just heard my actor’s going to be at the Cube for a charity event…let’s see if I can get into this one!’

 

There were more, corresponding with each image or video that had turned up on social media since Hawaii, the focus mainly on picking apart my appearance. Fat, ugly, giant ass…on and on and on. The worst was from when the article about my dating Norman hit. I cried all over again when I read it.

‘Oh, goodness…SOMEONE’S girlfriend is apparently a total FAMEWHORE. Shocker.’ :P

Once my weeping had again ceased, I read more. Neither of our names were mentioned, I was THE GIRLFRIEND, he was THE ACTOR, and pictures of him where nowhere to be found. Did she not want to get sued? Did she not want him to discover what she was doing? I kept scrolling, and there were occasional mentions of ‘the actor’ prior to us going public, but they were few and far between. When I got to the point in time where he’d not yet left to begin work on I Saw the Light, that’s when the entire slightly-insane story began to unfold. I started at the beginning and worked my way back up.

‘OMG I know I’ve been MIA all weekend but you will not BELIEVE what I was doing. Or, should I say WHO I was doing. Can’t reveal his name on here, but it was an ACTOR who lives locally and is off today to go to the states to film a movie about a country singer. If you want to know, message me. Spent the entire weekend in bed (and on everything else with a fuck-friendly surface, LOL). Best sex I’ve ever had, and I am totally in love. So is he. We’re going to Skype as soon as he checks into his hotel. SO HAPPY!’

Three days later, it was ‘He hasn’t Skyped me yet. Or called. I AM SO WORRIED! I hope nothing bad happened. I didn’t think to get his number. So stupid.’ A week in she posted ‘Thank God, he’s fine. I just saw he was at a music festival. I’m sure he’s just too busy to talk. I love you, baby!’ Two days after that it was ‘Still nothing. Getting desperate. Thinking of flying to see him.’ And then, after people began commenting that maybe she misunderstood what had happened between them, she posted ‘Fuck you all. You’re just jealous. He loves me. I know he does. He’s just working really hard. I’m out of here.’

There was a two week gap, wherein a twisted version of reality seemed to have set in. “Sorry I haven’t been on. Been thinking, and I guess I may have wanted things to move faster than he wanted them to. Just going to sit back and let what happens, happen. If it’s meant to be, it will be. Still have mad love for you, my actor. I’ll be here when you’re ready.’

 

The tide of comments turned at that point, all of them saying the actor was an abuser, a womanizer and a misogynist and that he used her for sex and she should out him and ruin his career. Which she hadn’t, so there was that to be grateful for, I supposed. But why would she think he loved her? Had he told her that he did? Or was she just one of those women who thinks every man they’re intimate with is THE ONE? Impossible things to know, because he would never be able to remember, and she wasn’t a reliable source. And the really awful thing…did she actually LOVE him? I was hung up in the middle of trying to see things from her perspective when my phone dinged.

They’re gone. – T

 

I wasn’t sure that warranted a reply, but I did so anyway.

K. Coming up. – M

When I walked through the door and sat my still-connected, browser open laptop on the kitchen counter he was sitting at the dining table, head in his hands. He looked up at me as he ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes red from crying, jaw set firmly.

“Well, since you weren’t here Mum suggested that we Skype Sarah and as if that wasn’t unpleasant enough she THEN decided to tell them about Dad’s cheating AND told them I’d known about it as well. Sarah’s no longer speaking to me because she’s angry that I didn’t tell her as soon as I found out and as a result she wasted all this time wondering WHY they divorced, and Em’s not speaking to me because she’s upset that I said anything at all and blames me for making Mum confess. I think her words were ‘Tom, why didn’t you just keep it to yourself? Just this ONE THING? WHY?’ and then she cried and cried and they left. She’s devastated, and since she’s pissed at Mum too she has no one to comfort her.”

He pushed his chair back and stood. “So, I guess it’s your turn to spew some hate in my direction, eh?”

“Um, I hadn’t planned on it, but…”

He snorted. “Please. You’ve barely been able to even look at me since…since…”

“Silvia. At least one of us is capable of remembering her name.” It was a horrible thing to say, but it came out of my mouth before I could stop it. “And what the fuck are you talking about, spewing hate? Did I or did I not specifically say that I was NOT angry with YOU? Don’t answer, I KNOW I did. Am I suddenly some kind of passive aggressive little bitch who says oh, it’s fine, then stows it a way to toss it back in your face later? Not who I am. But, gotta tell ya, I’m a little angry NOW. Are you really going to blame me for what happened with your family? Like, it’s my fault because I wasn’t here?”

A petulant pout and accusing eyes drew closer as he walked toward me. “I didn’t say that, exactly. But the fact remains that you weren’t. And you weren’t there at the Cube, either. Why didn’t you come out of the bathroom?”

“If you took the time to think about that, you’d know why. But since you didn’t, I’ll tell you. First, it happened SO quickly that I’d barely gotten past ‘oh, okay, not a stalker’ that it was all over. What would that have accomplished, anyway? Was I supposed to rescue you? Is that my job now? Whenever we encounter someone you’ve fucked, I intervene and stick up for you?” The pout had disappeared, replaced with thin, tight lips, the accusations gone from his eyes, now wide and blank. “Second…I didn’t come out because once she started talking I wanted to smash her fucking face in. So, you know, you’re welcome for me keeping myself under control and out of jail and you out of the tabloids.”

His confused expression pushed me over the edge. “Did you really not remember her, or did you just pretend not to because you knew I could hear you? If I wasn’t there would you have had a nice chat, reminisced about old times, maybe made some new memories right then and there? Because she was totally in love with you, you know. I found her on Facebook. Lots of pics…her in her underwear, a bikini, all gorgeous and thin, pining away for you the entire time.”

He blinked rapidly as he realized what was motivating me to be a vengeful harpy, mouth dropping open before he spoke. “I…I thought you were angry because I’d embarrassed you…but…but you…you’re…you’re jealous.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wow, so perceptive. I’m absolutely jealous. Really, really fucking jealous. So jealous that I want to track her down and rip her hair out of her pretty little head. Then I want to run her over with a tank. And yes, I’m aware that this is all very fucking crazy because I have no right to be jealous because it happened BEFORE ME and I have no right to be mad because I KNOW what you were going through at that point in your life but she’s so beautiful and so thin and perfectly put together and I am none of those things and I’m really sorry but I’m just having a meltdown here and I need you to answer two questions for me and then I think I’ll be okay will you answer them please? Please?”

His eyes shone with tears, and he nodded, speaking softly. “Of course I will.”

My own tears had begun to flow again. “Thank you. And I’m sorry, I know you know that it’s not exactly pleasant seeing someone the person you love has been intimate with face to face but that’s life and it’s the past and I really, really have no right to be jealous but god, this is AWFUL so…my outrageous, unwarranted questions. Number one…are you still fucking her?”

He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

I nodded. “Okay, number two…do you still WANT to fuck her?”

He shook his head once more. “Again, no. To be honest, I can’t even imagine what would have made me want to fuck her in the first place.”

My legs began to go out from under me, and he was quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up, pulling me to his chest. I rested my head against it for several minutes, then broke away from him.

“You didn’t deserve any of that, Tom. I came into this with my eyes wide open, knowing everything about you and saying I was okay with it and the first time I encounter it I’m a maniac about it. I’m very sorry. I just…I don’t…I mean, I was okay with Jane, I don’t know why this was different. Maybe it’s because of the whole weekend together thing and that’s what we’re doing and she talked about where you fucked her and…and I…my god, what I said about remembering her name…that was SO uncalled for and mean and…”

He interrupted my rambling. “You didn’t deserve any of what I said, either. That was all about my own shame and self-loathing. I felt awful because of how I’d treated that woman, and I just dumped it on you. I’m very, very sorry it happened, Maude. I was mortified, and if I was I can’t imagine how you felt…”

I snorted. “Any potential for embarrassment was firmly eradicated by my crazed, irrational jealousy. So no worries about that.”

He smirked. “Oh good, you’re back.” His hands found my waist, squeezing gently. “I am decidedly the last person to be passing judgement upon or criticizing any sort of behavior exhibited that results from feelings of jealousy. I think…it’s…you’re so very strong, Maude, that it’s all too easy for me to forget that you have insecurities and experience moments of vulnerability just like the rest of us. You are human, after all.”

I put a finger to my lips, tapping. “Possibly.” Reaching up, I rested my forearms on his shoulders, hands linked behind his neck. “Thanks for understanding, and being here. I love you.”

That beautiful smile appeared, melting my heart for the thousandth time. “I love you too. And my thanks to you for the same. This is going to sound terrible, probably, and know that I’m so, so sorry that you were upset but…a very small part of me likes that you were jealous. That’s wrong. I realize that. But…”

Rolling my eyes again, I unlinked my hands and poked him in the chest. “Jealousy is, like, totally new to me. Never happened before, really. I mean, I walked in on my mother fucking my husband, and I wasn’t even jealous then. But I get it. You man. You like woman want fight over you. Which totally almost happened and I still WANT to happen. Ugh. Looking at her Facebook page was a really, really bad idea. REALLY BAD.”

He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry. Should I read it?”

“Hell no. You feel bad enough about yourself already.”

Letting me go, he headed right for my laptop.

“Tom. Don’t. Please.”

“Shouldn’t I know?”

My head shook back and forth rapidly. “That’s not the point. The point is that it’s ME who found her Facebook page and you would have NEVER KNOWN IT EXISTED otherwise and thus it’s my fault so please, please don’t…”

“Will you give me a synopsis?”

I sighed. “She never mentioned your name, or mine. There was nothing negative about you, just about me.”

He frowned. “What did she say about you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before, many, many times. Not a big deal at all if you’re not feeling sorry for yourself at the moment you read it.”

He’d begun weeping again, and when I reached him he threw his arms around me, put his head on my shoulder and sobbed. “My sisters…this is awful. I suppose I knew it would be, but I honestly expected them to be mad at Mum and Dad, not ME.”

I rubbed his back in even strokes designed to soothe. “They’ll get over it. Just give them some time, babe. We humans have a nasty habit of turning our anger on the ones we love the most, even when it’s not their fault. Damn, I guess I really AM human. I’m so disappointed.”

He was smiling again, a small smile, but that was good enough for me. I brushed away his tears with my thumbs.

“I think a distraction is in order. And it’s your lucky day, because your crazy, irrational jealous girlfriend knows exactly what you need.” I stepped backwards, turned, and headed for the loo. His hand grabbed mine, stopping me.

“What might that be?”

I grinned. “A bath, baby. A nice, warm, cozy bath. Follow me. Imma strip you down while that tub fills UP.”

And strip him down I did, top to bottom, then disrobed myself as well. When the tub was halfway full, I got in and gestured for him to join me, requesting that he sit between my legs, back against my chest. He balked, initially, but when I mentioned that I intended to give him a massage he acquiesced without so much as another peep. I placed a kiss at the base of his neck that made him shiver, then got to work. Fifteen minutes later he was a floppy, albeit relaxed, mess and jokingly asked if I offered happy endings with my massages. And for him, I absolutely did.

He fell asleep with his head on my shoulder afterward, and I ran my fingers over his chest and stomach, marveling at what a work of art his body was. When the water, in addition to being tainted with semen, grew cold I roused him gently, his sleepy smile making me flush with joy.

He kissed me with an intensity that was far too great for someone who’d just woken up, his eyes meeting mine as his tongue exited my mouth, swiping my lips a final time before pulling completely away.

A wry smile appeared on his face, and he sloshed water everywhere as he turned and knelt in front of me, still in the tub. “Well, I do believe we just successfully navigated our way through a fight. Can I perhaps interest you in some much-lauded makeup sex?”

I shoved him backward. “Yes. Go. Out of the tub. Makeup sex. Move it, Thomas. MOVE IT.”


	34. Chapter 34

We spent the remainder of our summer and early fall in London living like normal people and doing normal things. I’d get up and head into work each morning, my main focus having shifted to overseeing Trudy’s progress on the app and delving into creating pages on the Prosper site for all our clients, while Tom kept his social media activity at the level we’d agreed upon, in conjunction with working out, running lines for Skull Island, meeting with BFI and UNICEF, as well as reading the rest of the Vampire Chronicles. 

Each night, we’d either eat in or go out to one of Tom’s favorite spots for dinner, and each weekend he’d take me to what he considered a ‘cannot be missed’ landmark or locale. Sundays were usually cinema day, my personal favorites we viewed being The Man From U. N. C. L. E. and American Ultra. Tom was fond of Before We Go, but I pointed out that he had to like it otherwise Captain America would kick his sorry ass, because he already had it out for him over the whole Loki wearing his suit thing. Interestingly, other than a random pap here and there in the heart of the city, we were essentially left to our own devices. No one seemed to care that we were walking around Regent’s Park drinking tea and coffee, having pizza, or grocery shopping. There were fans on occasion, and Tom was always gracious, stopping for a selfie and/or a chat, with me waiting in the wings or taking pictures. I had known it was possible to maintain some degree of anonymity no matter the level of fame involved, and now I’d come to the conclusion that it had a lot to do with the behavior of the celebrity themselves and directly proportional to the size of their entourage. Which we didn’t have, nor wished to have. Granted, Tom had yet to achieve rock god status, but still…if we smiled, waved, and moved on, so did everyone else. People being people.

Two weeks after his sisters had been informed of their father’s infidelity and misdirected their anger at Tom, Emma came over to our flat and they Skyped Sarah, talking through tears and shouts for two hours before apologizing to each other and realizing that the blame lay with no one other than Diana and James themselves. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, and it allowed us to move forward, both of us having dealt with our pasts as well as we could for the time being. Healing, learning, and discovering more and more of each other with every day that passed. Mundane things, like what kind of toothpaste either of us preferred, when we’d learned out times tables…the feeling that I’d always known him becoming increasingly prevalent and so very welcome. While I’d recognized that we were not only lovers but friends as well that night when I willingly shared my Ben and Jerry’s with him at the beach house in Hawaii, I couldn’t have imagined how deep that friendship would become. We lived, we loved, we laughed, and it was astounding to me that I could feel such…peace.

In mid-September the insanity began, both of us going on the road for the promotion of not one, not two, but THREE projects, High-Rise, I Saw the Light and Crimson Peak. The San Sebastian Film Festival, Toronto International Film Festival (where we ran into Norman, there promoting Sky, whose premier he invited us to and we attended), the BFI London Film Festival…it seemed endless, the screenings, Tom doing interview after interview, photoshoots and photo calls, Q & A sessions. How he managed to keep which project he was promoting at which event was a mystery to me, and I found myself asking him ‘dude, what’s this one for again’ more than once, and I spent nearly every moment behind the lens of a camera. 

Nights were when I edited what I’d gathered and emailed it to Tom, who’d then post it all across his social media accounts. Then came updating the website, followed by fast and furious fucking, then sleep. At some point in all the chaos he‘d dragged me into a coatroom and fucked me from behind, but the when and where wasn’t the slightest bit important at the time so determining its actual geographical occurrence is now impossible…but other than that, we behaved ourselves, acting like grown-up professionals with jobs. I enjoyed just fading into the background and watching him shine. His performance in all three films blew me away, but High Rise was my favorite story. The abortion scene in I Saw the Light made me cringe, especially when I considered how he must have felt filming it, so soon after what he’d been through in his personal life. As soon as it was over, he’d leaned over and kissed my cheek, his hand in mine, both of us squeezing gently. 

October twelfth found us in New York City, staying at my apartment, me packing up boxes to be shipped to London that week. My books, the rest of my clothes, and my computer. The rest would remain for when we visited, and while I knew I’d never sell the place, I also knew London had, in an obscenely short period of time, become home. The New Orleans house had been completely cleaned out, the August estate sale netting upwards of one hundred thousand dollars, and Tom made good on his promise to donate a matching amount to the women’s shelter while the actual proceeds were delivered to Will’s wife anonymously. I wasn’t sure what to do about renovations, but was hoping to stop in at some point during the holiday season and think it through. 

The fourteenth was the NYC premiere of Crimson Peak, and we’d agreed that while I’d attend, I wouldn’t walk the carpet. He’d balked, at first, but I’d convinced him that doing so would allow everyone to focus on him and his co-stars, which was exactly where the focus BELONGED. I wore the black version of the red dress I’d worn to Daniel, and spent the entire limo ride back to the apartment following the after-party with his face buried in my breasts. 

We flew to Nashville on the seventeenth to prepare for the premiere of I Saw the Light…Tom’s anxiety level ratcheted up to a nine, dreading the possibility of an appearance by Claudia. I steeled myself as best as I could, but, thankfully, it was completely unnecessary. The director wanted the venue to be small and down-home, so only bare-bones cast invites had been extended. Meeting his co-star Lizzie was a blast…she was friendly, funny, dorky and gorgeous. The two of us hung out in front of the stage as Tom performed for the crowd, dancing like a couple of idiots and singing along. He was incredible, those damn hips distracting me to no end, and his SMILE, my lord. He’d tried to teach me some guitar chords while we were on the road, but, as expected, I sucked in a way that no one had probably ever sucked before and decided once and for all that being able to sing was enough musical talent for one human being.

Principal photography for Skull Island was slated to start on the nineteenth on Oahu, but Tom wasn’t needed on set until November second so we decided to take a holiday the two weeks prior on Kauai. He’d even managed to sweet talk the reservations gal into giving us the same room…the one I’d been staying in when we met, number 203. As soon as we arrived, we both changed and headed out to put our toes in the sand, which is how we spent most of our time for the next ten days. At long last, my ass was on the fucking beach and it was pure, unadulterated bliss. The nights…that’s when we made up for lost time, screwing each other senseless until we passed out from exhaustion. 

Luke and Simon joined us on the twenty-ninth, a short birthday celebration jaunt for the latter. On the thirtieth we all went out to Nawiliwili Tavern to celebrate him turning thirty-eight, and I karaoked so much my throat hurt the next day. And really, it was just from singing. Really.

On the morning of my birthday, I left Tom snoring in our bed to watch the Halloween sunrise from the balcony, a knee-length tropical print satin robe wrapped around me. I’d become a fan of robes…easy to slip on, even easier to rip off. Both of us slept naked, and with all the hotels, room service and sex whenever we could squeeze it in while traveling, it was an excellent way to prevent me from answering the door in the buff. I leaned on the railing, listening to the waves crashing, watching the three joggers heading down the beach leaving sand flying in their wake. Thirty-eight. I wasn’t sure how the fuck this had happened, yet here I was, two years away from forty, the biological clock that had been silent before meeting Tom now ticking away loudly. We both baby goggled, and while we were still back in London we’d had lunch with Ben and his wife, each taking turns holding their baby. I’d caught Tom staring at me, his expression making me want toss my birth control pills in the garbage…full of adoration, love, want and so much more. And him holding such a tiny being in his huge hands…too precious for words.

Last year on this day I’d been working, giving a seminar in Chicago, and my celebration had consisted of six donuts at eleven-thirty PM in my hotel room while I watched the Matrix. This year…other than a costume party at Rob’s Good Times Grill in the evening, I had no clue what was in store for me. I reflected on how much my life had changed, and how I was so incredibly blessed, realizing that I’d be perfectly content to spend the entire day in our room, talking, laughing, dancing…all those simple things that made me genuinely happy. Me. Happy. Something I never thought I’d be, yet here I was. Standing on the balcony of the room where we’d first been intimate, on the island where we’d fallen in love. Grateful tears welled up, spilling over and running down my cheeks, and as I wiped them away I felt hands on my shoulders, followed by a kiss on my neck.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” I turned to face him, and he immediately noticed that I’d been crying. “You okay, love?”

“I’m amazing. Happy tears. Actually, grateful tears. Just thinking about how different things are from last year, and…”

He pulled me to his chest, smoothing my hair as he placed a kiss on top of my head. “I love you, my Maude.” He let me go, hands sliding around and down to grasp my forearms, grinning. “So, ready for your present?”

I poked his chest with my index finger. “Dude, you PROMISED me, NO PRESENTS. The time we’re getting to spend together here before you start filming is my present, and every day with you is a gift ANYWAY so…”

Several beats of uncharacteristic silence followed. “Well look at you, leaving me at a loss for words.”

Wrangling free of his grip, I clapped excitedly. “That’s like a whole ‘NOTHER present, man. WOO HOO!”

He laughed, a drawn out ‘ehehehehehe’, ceasing only when we thought we heard someone yell for us to shut up. We ran back inside and closed the balcony doors behind us, sat on the bed and perused the breakfast menu. I opted for scrambled eggs, pancakes and bacon, and Tom decided upon an egg and cheese omelet. After eating quickly, we showered together, and as we dried off in the main area of the room he cleared his throat nervously.

“So, um…I was wondering if maybe you’d like to take a ride out to Talk Story today? I thought perhaps you’d want to pick up some new reading material for while I’m shooting?”

The man knew the only time I had to read these days was when I was on the toilet, but I went with it because, BOOKS. And I’d wanted to go there before we moved on to Oahu anyway, even if it was just to look around. The origin of us. A huge grin spread across my face.

“That sounds fucking epic, babe. What time is it now, like eight-thirty? They open at ten, and the trip there is an hour…”

“Shall we see if Luke and Simon want to join us?”

I snorted. “Ha, if Simon’s even awake yet it would be a bona-fide fucking miracle…but sure, why not? It’d be cool for them to see where we met. God, I’m such a romantic saphead asshat. Gross.”

He laughed, wrapped his towel around his waist and grabbed his phone off the desk. I returned to the bathroom to brush my teeth, only hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. After hanging up, he joined me, eyes on my reflection, and the memory of him fucking me right there four months ago made me shiver, goosebumps pebbling my flesh. 

“Believe it or not, they’re not only awake, they’ve had breakfast. Or at least Luke has. Simon appears to be on a liquid diet so far today.”

I spit a final time then spun around, brows raised, and he chuckled.

“What I MEANT was he’s too hung over for food, little miss filthy dirty mind.” 

I slapped his ass as I walked out of the bathroom to get dressed. “You fucking love it.”

“Oh, I absolutely do.”

Black bra and panties, grey hiking shorts…but I figured I should ask what he was wearing before I picked out a shirt.

“Babe, what are you....” I’d turned around so my voice would carry better to the bathroom only to find him right THERE, his cock at half-mast. I coughed, then continued. “Wearing. What are you wearing? Fuck, the naked sneak up is NOT COOL, Hiddleston.”

He smirked. “My khaki shorts and a white V-neck, I think.”

“Good. Then I can wear a black one.” I finished dressing while he began, then went to stand before the mirror so I could put my hair back in a ponytail. I’d had it cut and styled before we left London, the ends brushing just below my collar bones. For some reason, even just a few inches and a tiny bit of layering made it much easier to manage. As I was strapping on my Birkenstocks, a quiet rapping on the door began. Tom opened it, and when I saw Simon was wearing giant Kardashian-style mirrored aviator sunglasses indoors, I shouted. Loudly. Even though it hurt my throat to do so.

“Good morning, Mr. Ahlberg. How are we feeling today? Looks like you may have had too much birthday, am I right?”

His voice was raspy as he pulled the Panama hat he was sporting further down his forehead. “Fuck off, bitch.” He was wearing a dark green Polo shirt, white shorts and white loafers. 

I rose as he and Luke entered the room, and Luke grinned as he embraced me briefly.

“Happy Birthday, Maude.”

“Thank you, Luke. You look none the worse for wear.” He’d paired khaki shorts with a medium-blue faded T-shirt and Teva sandals, also khaki with blue stripes.

He snorted. “One of us had to behave responsibly. He was up half the night with his head in the bowl…”

Simon shoved him out of the way, wrapping his arms around me to support himself after placing a quick kiss on my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Please kill me. I know it’s your birthday, but it IS Halloween so it’s sort of apropos and I really need to die. I beg you. Put me out of my misery.”

I squeezed him tightly and whispered back. “Not a chance, asshole. I enjoy your snark entirely too much to let it slip from my grasp so easily.”

He sighed, releasing me. “Fine, fine. On with the hour long car ride then. Followed by staring at some books. Then an hour long car ride back. All during which I could have been resting up for tonight.”

We used their rental car, as I’d demanded to have a Jeep Wrangler again and thought Simon might puke if we took that instead. Much like Luke had thought he’d do when we’d gone to our Hula class. Ah, life’s fun parallels that arise from excessive alcohol consumption. Tom had gone back up to the room to retrieve his forgotten phone, and when he came back we were off. Luke and Simon sat in the back, Simon resting his head on Luke’s shoulder, moaning from time to time when Tom took a turn too fast. 

He parked us a block down, and we jumped out of the vehicle, excited to be back, and he picked me up and spun me around as we waited for Simon’s slow-ass self.

I rolled my eyes as Tom set me down. “Christ, Simon…you’re like a little old man. Fucking move it along, won’t you?”

I got the bird in return, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. The ibuprofen I’d given him in the car must have started to kick in. Why he hadn’t thought of it on his own…no clue. As we reached the red doors, Tom took my hand, smiling as he opened the door for me. It was exactly the same, which wasn’t really a surprise as only four months had passed, but a feeling washed over me at the sight of it anyway, one of pure joy. His hand squeezed mine as we walked inside, and behind the counter was Roger Marshal, still bearded, same glasses, different Hawaiian shirt, this time red with green leaves. He grinned widely and came around to shake our hands.

“Aloha, Mr. Hiddleston, Ms. Gallagher. Welcome back. I see you brought friends with you on this glorious Halloween day in paradise.”

Tom introduced him to Simon and Luke while I wandered down to the stacks where we’d met. The place was relatively empty…I didn’t see anyone, but assumed customers were just quietly browsing elsewhere. Music was playing, something by 10,000 Maniacs, the name of which always escaped me. Almost instinctually, I went right for the ‘K’s, looking for my white whale…and…THERE IT FUCKING WAS. Not three feet away from me, the spine of the dust jacket unmistakable, silver-grey with a long black tower and yellow text. I stood, frozen in place, listening to footsteps approaching just as I had on that day back in June. Tom’s hand touched my shoulder gently.

“You okay? You didn’t move a muscle while we walked down here.”

I pointed. “It’s there. Do you see it? Tell me you see it.”

He looked. “See what?”

“THE BOOK. THE GUNSLINGER. Yellow text. Black tower. TELL ME YOU SEE IT.”

“Oh, okay…yes…I see it. Wait, isn’t that…”

I nodded, still using my indoor voice but enunciating so strongly they sounded out in all caps. “YES. MY WHITE WHALE. THAT IS A FIRST EDITION COPY OF THE GUNSLINGER.”

He laughed, squeezing my shoulder. “And you’re not over there pulling it off the shelf and holding on to it for dear life, why, exactly?”

Reaching up, I patted his hand gently as I whispered. “Because I’m afraid that if I move or even if I blink it will disappear, having only been the cruelest of mirages.”

“If I can see, it, it MUST be real, yes?” His other hand patted my ass. “Best grab it before someone else does, don’t you think?”

I turned to him briefly, eyes wide. “YES. Excellent idea.”

One step, two steps, both very slow, and I noticed that the song had changed. Tilting my head to make sure I wasn’t hearing things in addition to possibly seeing things, I listened closely, turning back around to face Tom.

“Is it me or…is that Tigerlily by La Roux?”

His own head tilted, and he nodded, smiling. “You’re right, it is. What a fantastic coincidence!”

I nodded again, then turned back to my prey. Another two steps and I was there, reaching out my hand to touch the spine gingerly, then quickly pulling back as if I’d been burned.

“Oh my god it’s REAL. And not only is it REAL I think it’s in, like, MINT FUCKING CONDITION this is…I just…” I carefully slid it off the shelf, turning it over in my hands, then back again, opening the cover ever so gently. Much to my horror, there was something written on the flyleaf. I was about to stomp my foot when I noticed my name.

Happy Birthday, Maude. 

You hold in your hands not only a first edition, but one from my personal collection…and out of the first box the publisher sent to me. The God of Mischief asked me to do him a solid, and I figured it might be a good idea to go the extra mile. Thanks for being a Constant Reader all these years, and may the wheel of Ka always move forward for you.

With love, 

Steve

PS - CONGRATULATIONS!

Tigerlily was still playing, and I re-read the text again, realizing that Tom had planned all of this, for ME, for MY birthday, and I nearly burst into tears but the last bit of what Steve…STEPHEN FUCKING KING… had written confused me and I focused on that in an attempt to keep my shit together. I began speaking, still staring at the word as I turned around.

“Tom, why did he write congra…” I looked up from my precious treasure but didn’t see him, just Luke and Simon, their phones held up and pointing at me. “…ulations?” My gaze moved lower, and there he was. Tom. Down on one knee. Right arm extended. And in his hand was a small black box.

I’d like to say the world around me grew silent and time stopped and the angels began to sing, but that would be lying and, if nothing else, I’m an honest woman. 

What really happened is that I blurted out “Ohmygodthefuckareyoudoing?” followed by my right hand flying up to cover my mouth, trying to shove what had just come out back in.

His eyes met mine, peering up from under his brows, lashes so long and soft and glistening with tears, his smile shy and kind and beautiful and I could see his hand shaking just the tiniest bit and my knees got weak and I had to uncover my mouth so I could breathe otherwise my big ass was going to hit the fucking floor.

He cleared his throat, then began to speak. “One hundred and twenty-five days. That’s how long it’s been since I walked through those red doors, down these stacks and saw you, my light in the mist. All of those days that came and went before…they all appear in shades of grey in my mind now, as if I never truly saw the world around me in color until the moment my eyes met yours for the first time. And however many more days we’re blessed with on this earth, I want to spend each and every one of them with you. I know I’ve said this bit already, when we first arrived in New York, but…I’m going to say it again, because it’s the truth, the only truth I know, the only truth that matters. I will love you all of this life, and in each and every one that follows. I will love you as the world turns to ash around us. I will love you as the universe collapses into itself, and in the blackness of the eternity that awaits, I will remain, with you, at your side, holding your hand, never to let go. This love…it knows no bounds. It is forever. Two souls made one, together unto infinity. Maude Gallagher, will you do me the honor…the most extraordinary honor that could ever be bestowed upon me…of becoming my wife?”

I’d stopped breathing at some point, inhaling with an audible gasp at his conclusion, then answering. 

“Absofuckingloutely. Yes. Yes yes yes yes YES!”

I threw myself at him, and he rose to catch me just in time, both of us laughing and crying, his forehead resting against mine, Simon and Luke whistling and shouting as we kissed, murmuring ‘I love you’ over and over when we came up for air. Tom pulled back, grinning holding up the black box and shaking it back and forth.

“Aren’t you curious to see your ring?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “I guess so. Whip it out.”

He opened the lid, and what I saw nested inside the black velvet made me feel faint for the second time in mere minutes. The ring was sterling silver, with an oval cut and polished black stone set in raised parenthesis shaped sterling silver bars, one to each side, perfectly mimicking of the style of the necklace given to me by my father. My voice eluded me, and he mistook my silence for displeasure.

“It’s not traditional, I know, and if you’d rather have a diamond we can…”

My head shook back and forth as I reached out and touched it with my right index finger in disbelief, then met his gaze. 

“That’s black tourmaline.” He nodded, and I recalled the conspiratorial glance Luke’s mother and Tom’s sister had shared after I’d tried on a ring back at the Cube gallery. “Phaedra made this.” 

He nodded again, eyes questioning. I bit my lip, then inhaled sharply before speaking again. “Will you put it on me please?”

His voice was timid, soft. “You like it, then?”

“No, Tom. I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. Put. It. On. Me.” I grinned. “Please.”

As Simon sidled over and took the Gunslinger away from me, Tom slipped the ring out of its slot, put the box in his pocket, then took my left hand in his right and slid the first tangible symbol of our commitment to one another home with the other, a huge, beautiful smile spreading across his face as I brought both our hands up to stare at my latest jewelry acquisition. He watched me, silently, and all the other moments that I’d pushed aside over the past four months formed a slideshow in my mind’s eye. Ben smirking at us as we looked through his wedding album, nudging his wife in the ribs as she giggled…what I’d overheard at Diana’s house, that he wanted something to be ‘perfect’…and, finally, the afternoon at Greenwood Cemetery back in New Orleans when I’d said goodbye to my father. Tom had gone to the crypt, introduced himself and told my father how much he loved me, then asked him a question, cupping his hand to his mouth and whispering against the stone, waiting for an answer, then nodding as he said ‘thank you, sir’. When I’d asked what his question had been he’d refused to tell me, though when I inquired as to whether my father had answered, he’d replied ‘I’d like to think he did.’ 

Gasping, my hand again flew to my mouth as my breath hitched and the tears flowed. “Tom…my god…how long…when did you decide…was it back in…Tom, that day in the cemetery…my dad…is that what you…”

He nodded, weeping as well. “Yes. I asked him for your hand in marriage.”

Choking back sobs, I reached out and placed my right hand on his shoulder. “But…when did you…when…”

His fingers grazed my temple, then my cheek, coming to rest on my jaw. “When did I know that I wanted to marry you?” I nodded. “That moment in the hotel in New Orleans when you said that if you really, truly love someone you accept them just as they are…and that you accepted me, all of me, every bit. As I took you in my arms, it hit me…I wasn’t just holding the woman I’d fallen in love with any longer. I was holding my wife.”

My sobs broke free, and I wrapped myself around him and buried my face in his chest. He rocked me, smoothing my hair, his chin on the top of my head. “I’m sorry it took me so long to ask. I just…I wanted it to be…perfect.”

Pulling away, I snorted. “Mission accomplished, you glorious bastard. This was over the top, ridiculously romantic, Clint Eastwood and Rob Reiner co-directing a love story PERFECT.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. The ring…there’s an inscription…”

I yanked it off and held it up to my face. Around the solid portion of the band, flanked on either side by two tiny books was written in a teeny, tiny font, two lines, one on top of the other:

Talk Story - 6/29/15 - Our Story  
My Light in the Mist

“Thomas William Hiddleston, I hope you realize that now we have to get MARRIED here. Like, right here. In this very spot. Bridezilla has come ashore and she won’t have it any other way.” I turned my attention from the ring to his face. “I’m serious. Can we? Is that cool with you? Getting married here? I mean, I guess we need to ask…” His smirk resulted in an epic eye roll and heavy sigh from me as I slipped the ring back on my finger. “Aaaaand…you already asked, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Roger’s fine with it. We just need to let him know a few weeks in advance so he can arrange to close the shop.”

For some reason, that solidified what had just occurred. Tom had asked me to marry him. I’d said yes. I was now his fiancé, the future Mrs. Thomas Hiddleston. And there was now a wedding to plan. Which was exciting and amazing but I had no idea what to do next so I just stood, like a deer caught in headlights. He leaned in, nose touching mine.

“You okay?”

I nodded hard, attempting to clear my head, letting the euphoria take over. “My god, we’re getting MARRIED. Maude Hiddleston. I’m going to need to start practicing that. Gotta say, it sounds pretty fucking great. Nice ring to it. Maude Hiddleston. Yep. Sold.”

His jaw had dropped open, then closed again, eyes full of surprise. “I…you…you want to change your name?”

“Uhhh…yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, if you don’t want…”

He took my hands in his. “Oh, no, no…I…I’d love for you to take my name. See, that sounds awful. Archaic. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to or that I expected you to because, I mean, you’re known a certain way professionally and…”

My lips found his, tongue pushing into his mouth, silencing him the best way I knew how. And, other than pushing his head down between my thighs, my favorite way. As we broke the kiss, he grinned, and so did I.

“Tom. I know some women are very much against changing their names or like to hyphenate, and that’s totally cool, but I’m not one of them. To me, it’s part of joining with someone. Being a family. If that makes me old-fashioned, too fucking bad. Plus, what happens when your kid with the hyphenated name marries another kid with a hyphenated name? Chaos, I say. Chaos.”

His expression was so earnest, so thankful that it caused me to take pause, during which I become cognizant of all I had to be thankful for as well. And that I hadn’t even said thank you, for anything he’d done, which resulted in waterworks yet again as I let go of his hands to place mine on the sides of his beautifully chiseled countenance.

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t say thank you, for any of this…but I’m telling you now. Thank you, Tom. Thank you. I’m going to remember this forever and tell it over and over and our kids and grandkids will be like SHUT UP WE HEARD THAT STORY A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY and it’s just…I love you, so much, and I’m so blessed to have you in my life and my god, I can’t believe you want to MARRY me because I mean I’m ME and…”

It was his turn to cut things off with a kiss, and as he pulled back I heard Simon’s voice, realizing I had completely forgotten that we weren’t alone and wondering exactly how much they’d filmed. 

“Yay, yay, you’re engaged, that’s super, who isn’t though, you know? Anyway. I’m going to create a diversion because if Maude cries again I’m going to lose all respect for her and, frankly, I don’t have that much left TO lose so…” He wrenched me from Tom’s grasp and turned me to face him. “SO, I assume that I’ll be your maid of honor? Because honey, you are REALLY going to need my help…”

I rolled my eyes. “Actually, you’ll wind up being my MATRON of honor because you’ll probably be MARRIED by then, you big fucking dumbass. And…and…” I started to sniffle, tears welling up again.

He covered his eyes with his right hand, having taken the shades off to film, and groaned. “Oh. My. God. Are you going to cry from now until whenever it is you get hitched? Because if that’s the case feel free to go before Luke and I do.”

When I didn’t reply, he uncovered his eyes, saw the look on my face and placed both hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, gorgeous…talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of one hand, then attempted to speak. “Will you…I…my…I don’t have a…my dad…isn’t…will…will you walk me down the aisle?”

He, Tom and Luke burst into tears at that, Simon’s hand over his mouth as he nodded repeatedly and pulled me to his chest. His voice was deep but soft in my ear when he was able to talk again. “Of course I will, honey. Of course I will. I’m so sorry your father won’t be there. And you know I’m, like, SO not religious so I’m not going to give you the watching over you nonsense, though I guess who the fuck really knows, but in a way he WILL be there, because he’s part of you. And we need to talk about something else now because crying is making my headache IN-FUCKING-TOLERABLE…”

He released me and Luke took his place immediately, warmly embracing me for the second time that day. His quiet authority was what I saw most of…it wasn’t until we were off the clock that he became himself, and even at that we were only moderately affectionate. Drunk Luke, though…that was an entirely different story. After a few pats to the back, we let each other go, and I pointed at Tom.

“This is some stunt you pulled here, young man. I hope you realize that.”

He grinned from ear to ear, tongue peeking out from between his teeth. “Oh, I do.” His brows rose. “Were you truly surprised?”

“Um, YEAH. No clue. Well, not exactly NO clue. I mean, I picked up on a few things along the way that I seemed odd but I just pushed them aside because…” My eyes turned skyward as I thought of the best way to phrase what came next. “Because as much as I wanted it to be what I thought it was, I couldn’t be sure and I didn’t want to be disappointed if it never happened, I guess. But. Yeah. So, do we need to fill anyone in on the news or am I totally the last one to know?”

“If it never happened. You’re a silly, silly girl.” His lips grazed my cheek. “And yes, there are still plenty of people to tell. Anyone who was privy to my plan was purely essential.”

My left eyebrow shot up. “Oh, how did Ben and Sophie factor in? Do tell.”

He blushed adorably. “I may have tattled to Chris and Elsa too. But…Anne’s still in the dark, so maybe start there?”

Simon had set the Gunslinger on the nearest table, and I started at it and sighed happily. “I cannot BELIEVE you not only managed to find me a first edition copy of the Gunslinger, but you got Stephen King to sign it, and it’s ONE FROM HIS PERSONAL COLLECTION. You are such a complete dork, and I am the luckiest woman alive, Thomas William Hiddleston.”

He walked to my side and slipped an arm around my waist. “So, should we take a photo to post online? Or would you rather do something more formal?”

I snorted. “Fuck formal. Picture, please.”

I held up my left hand at face level between us, the back of it towards Tom’s phone, which Luke was holding, then pointed at the ring with my right and posed with my mouth stretched wide open in a gleeful grin. Tom pointed at it as well, and three clicks later we were good to go.

Taking the phone back from Luke, he typed, then stopped. “Do you want to call Anne before I post this?” 

“Nah. I’ll wait for her to call. It’s more fun this way…and honestly, I have no idea how to tell people without sounding like an asshole, so…yeah. Post it.”

He clicked, then turned the screen so I could see it. There we were, his expression mimicking mine, his Twitter message short and sweet.

She said YES!!!!!!!!!! #thefuturemrshiddleston, #iamsoveryblessed, #luckiestmanintheuniverse

Chuckling, I passed the phone back to him. “Um, actually what I said was ‘absofuckingloutely’. Shit. That’s like, filmed and recorded as my official reaction to being proposed to in the most beautiful and perfect way possible. Nice one, me.”

Luke cleared his throat. “So, not to be a killjoy…” Simon snorted. “Do we have a date in mind for the blessed event? Tom’s schedule is…”

I raised my hand. “Oh, oh…I know what Tom’s schedule is…it’s an insane MESS. Gee, wish there was an app for that or something. HA! Anyhow, you’ll have to double check, but I’m pretty sure that there is zero room for it to happen until late April or early May.”

Scrolling through his phone, Luke nodded. “You’re right. After the I Saw the Light press tour and premiere he’s got Night Manager promo until it airs in the states on April nineteenth. Really, the best month seems to be June.”

Tom spread his hands wide. “Well, that makes it simple. Let’s do it on the first anniversary of the day we met. June twenty-ninth. I think I can even squeeze in time for a honeymoon before heading to Australia to start in on Ragnarock.” He turned to me, brows raised, questioning. “Okay with you?”

My eyes met his, then roamed up and down over his form. This breathtakingly beautiful, kind, compassionate, intelligent, gifted, hilarious being…he was going to be my husband. I felt the tears creeping up on me again, but shook them off, breaking myself of the habit lest I, as Simon feared, kept crying every time I thought about marrying the man for the next eight months. 

“Oh yeah. Totally okay with me. And shall I assume you had that planned all along as well?”

He laughed, throwing his head back, one hand on his abdomen, smirking adorably when he’d managed to compose himself. “No, actually…that one was totally off the cuff.”

“Sure it was.”

Laughing again, he grabbed my shoulders. “It was. I swear it.”

I sighed. “Well, if you swear it, I guess I should believe you. So…I know this will come as a shock, but …I’m STARVING. Birthday girl needs lunch. Feed birthday girl NOW.”

Tom pulled me close and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “How’s Kauai Pasta sound?”

“It sounds like you made reservations for four is how it sounds.” He smiled, licking his lips. “Which is awesome, because I am such a slut for Alfredo…”

Simon’s face appeared over Tom’s shoulder. “Oh, oh…can we please go over the list of things you’re a slut for? THERE ARE SO MANY…”

I flipped him off. “Please. Your list is so long it wouldn’t fit on my 32 gig USB drive.”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “My, my. She becomes some hot guy’s fiancé and her rudeness trebles. Unacceptable.” 

Grinning, I turned my gaze back to Tom. “So, are we, like, done with surprises for the day? Because I’m not sure my heart can take another one. Though I do have a surprise of my own for YOU…”

“You do, do you? And what would that be?”

I patted his chest. “That would be my Halloween costume, babe. I fear you may not survive.” 

He placed his hand over mine, leaning in so his face was inches from mine. “You do realize that you have not the slightest inkling as to what I’m wearing, don’t you?”

I didn’t. I’d been so focused on keeping mine under wraps I hadn’t considered HIS. And I was afraid to imagine, because the party now seemed an eternity away and if I let my mind wander…my mouth dropped open, then closed, opened, then closed again. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I am so, so fucked.”

A whisper in my ear. “Oh, you are indeed, my darling. You are indeed.”


	35. Chapter 35

All the way to Kauai Pasta our phones chirped and rang incessantly, Anne being among the first to reach out. She loved my ring, thought it was the most wonderful news, and THEN I asked her if she’d be willing to be a participant in the wedding party. Her shriek was delightful, quickly followed by her asking me if I wouldn’t rather have someone closer to my own age, to which I retorted that I might have seriously injured myself due to rolling my eyes so hard at her bullshit.

Veronica called as well, and I booked her immediately to help with styling for the event. I was never the sort of girl who had a vision of THAT DRESS, so I had no idea where the hell to even begin. All I knew was that I wanted to be comfortable and not look like a Disney princess, but if I was going to avoid showing up in baggy shorts and a T-shirt, guidance from a professional was definitely in order. Norman texted his congratulations to us both, but other than that, most of the attention was directed to Tom’s device, though I chimed in with my thanks on every call because he insisted upon using speakerphone mode. Such an outpouring of support wasn’t something I was used to, and by the time we got to the restaurant I was ready to hide in the hotel room for a few hours and adjust to being someone’s fiancée.

The fettuccine alfredo was even better than I remembered, and Tom’s penchant for stealing my food even worse. After we’d finished inhaling all the goodness, Simon sauntered over to the manager and suddenly the entire establishment was singing happy birthday to me. Every time I tried to slide down the booth seat and under the table Tom grabbed me and pulled me back up, ignoring both my pleas for help and my obviously empty threats to withhold sexual favors from him if he didn’t comply.

Once we returned to the hotel, Simon nabbed the garment bag that contained my costume as well as the duffel of accessories that he’d brought from back home, and we adjourned to my and Tom’s room while Tom remained with Luke, who’d been the transporter of his contraband. I hadn’t actually SEEN my costume yet, having put my full faith in Simon when he talked me into opting for Lady Loki instead of just plain old Loki. When he unzipped the bag, I peered at its contents, looked back at Simon, back into the bag, then settled my gaze upon a pair of grey eyes alight with mischief.

“Um, Simon? WHERE IS THE REST OF THE COSTUME?”

The left side of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. “I don’t understand what you mean, Maude. That’s the costume. Lady Loki.”

I pulled out the pieces. All four of them. “This isn’t a costume. This is a bikini, two pillowcases strung on a belt, and a cape.”

He nodded. “Uh HUH. Lady Loki. The horns and the boots are in the duffel bag. You are going to LOVE the boots, by the way…”

“SIMON. Where is the SHIRT? Where is the SKIRT?”

“Lady Loki doesn’t wear a SHIRT. She wears a TOP. A midriff baring top. And kind of a skirt, but the sides are OPEN so you can, you know, SEE. How do you not know this? You’re fucking…oh, wait, sorry, you’re engaged to the man who plays him. Her. Whatever.”

I flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, left wrist and hand resting on my forehead. “Somehow I doubt that particular look is set in stone. I’ve seen the comics, and looked at a ton of cosplay pictures. There are shirts. There are skirts. And, by the way, even though we’re engaged I’m still going to be FUCKING HIM. My god. What the hell am I going to do for a costume NOW?”

He sat down next to me, the black faux-leather top and bottoms held aloft in his hands. “You know, it’s NOT a bikini. It’s actually a push-up bra and booty shorts. And they’re LEATHER.”

An entirely new sound came out of me as I sat up, a hybrid of a terrified scream and maniacal laugh. “HA! Well, if it’s a push-up bra and booty shorts I suppose that makes everything JUST FINE then.” I touched the shorts to ascertain the exact material. “And that’s not REAL leather. So pffft on you. And my midriff has not been seen in public since…since…like, never and…”

Simon dropped the bra into his lap in order to cover my mouth with his hand. “LIES! Your bathing suit has cutouts in that area. You’ve also exposed bits of yourself on that very balcony out there, and then THE REST of what the good lord gave you as you walked across this very room. And heaven knows where ELSE you’ve stripped down for the sake of carnal pleasure. Come on, Maauuudddeee. At least try it ON.”

My head shook back and forth as I pouted. “I don’t WANNA.”

He leaned in, cheek brushing mine like a cat demanding attention. “But…but…imagine Tom’s FACE when he SEES YOU.”

I stood, snatched the pieces from his lap and charged into the bathroom, peals of his laughter echoing behind me. After stripping naked, I stared at myself in the mirror, taking careful note of the fact that I appeared to be somewhat…smaller. I hadn’t weighed myself since New York in July, and admittedly my clothes had seemed to be getting a little bit looser, but we’d been so busy it wasn’t something to which I gave more than a passing thought. While I’d spent a good amount of my time naked during our road trip, said time was typically spent pursuing matters other than gazing at my reflection, and it was only when faced with the prospect of putting on a ridiculously skimpy outfit that I finally viewed myself with a critical eye. And, realistically, after more than a month of frequently skipped meals and constant activity, I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised that I’d shed a few pounds.

First I wiggled into the booty shorts, my back to the mirror, then stared at the push-up bra. It fastened in the front, which typically spelled massive wardrobe malfunction for me, but I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, slipped it over my shoulders into place and hooked the clasp. As I exhaled, I fully expected it to pop open, but it didn’t. Nor did it pop open when I reached in to adjust the girls. The shoulder straps were easily an inch and a half wide, which perhaps distributed the load more efficiently than most others I’d tried. And my lord, push up indeed. I yelled to Simon.

“Dude, I could serve drinks off my tits. Seriously. It fits perfectly.”

“Of course it does. Boobs may not be my thing, but I’m dead on with sizes every time.”

I snorted. “You’re full of shit. You either peeked or Tom did and told you.”

He scratched at the door with his fingernails. “Whatever. Fuck you. Let me IN.”

As I turned to unlock the door I got a glimpse of myself, mainly my ass from the side.

“Sweet baby Moses, I look like a fucking Kardashian in these shorts.”

Simon flung the door open, grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face the mirror, busily studying my rear end, shaking his head vehemently.

“Oh honey, no. No you do not. But if you want to I’m sure I can get my hands on some padding…” His eyes roamed over my body, then met mine in our reflection. “Maude. You look so beautiful, I may weep.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please.”

“No, I mean it. And not only are you lovely on the outside, you’re even more gorgeous on the INSIDE. Tom is a lucky, lucky man.”

I turned to face him. “You’re not switching teams on me, are you?”

He pinched my cheek. “Not unless you’re hiding a cock in those shorts.”

“We’re both being very non-PC right now, aren’t we?”

Roaring with laughter, he slapped my ass and ran out of the bathroom. “Being indiscriminately insensitive to all of humanity is one of my favorite things to do with you. Now come on out of there and put on your BOOTS. Then we have to call the wig and makeup person, because I need help too, and then we’ll both finish putting on…”

I interrupted him as I entered the living space. “I’m sorry, did you say wig and makeup person?”

Sighing, he patted my shoulder. “Yes. Tom borrowed someone from the Skull Island set for himself, and we get to use her too. YAY!”

Words escaped me as I wondered what the hell Tom was up to, needing an actual professional for his costume. And it was a wig AND makeup person. My god, could he…would he…I grabbed Simon by both biceps.

“You know, don’t you? You know who he’s dressing up as. You have to tell me, Simon. HAVE TO TELL ME.”

“Woman, I kept the whole proposal nonsense a secret…if you think I’m going to spill something so insignificant you are sadly mistaken.”

I leaned in so we were nose to nose, knowing staring into his eyes was my best chance of detecting a falsehood. The man had a poker face like none I’d ever seen, but I’d witnessed him being less than truthful enough times at the office to figure out his tell. “Lestat. It’s Lestat, isn’t it?” Just the slightest tick to the left. “OH MY FUCKING GOD IT IS I AM GOING TO DIE.”

He took a step backwards, crossing his arms. “Totally not Lestat, Maude.”

“Don’t you try and lie to me, old man. You have a tell, you know. Your eyes shift to the left every time. Every. Time. And they did just fucking now.”

“Um, I’d like to point out that if I’m an old man that makes you an old woman because, HELLO, same age.”

My index finger connected with his chest. “Your attempt at diverting my attention to a potentially inflammatory topic in order to disguise the fact that you’re a lying liar who lies is neither appreciated, nor will it be successful.”

He covered his face with his hands. “Oh lord help me she’s using her Smartypants Businesslady words. Make it stop.”

“Apologies, but this will continue until you opt to proffer a full, one-hundred percent factual, truthful confession…”

His hands fell from his face as he fanned out his fingers in exasperation. “FINE. You’re right. Happy now?”

“NO. Because now I’m afraid of WHICH Lestat he’s going to be. Old school? Rock god? Modern tailored suit with flair? I think I need to sit down.”

Simon shoved me down onto the bed. “Please do, you naughty spoilsport. I’m making my call.”

He wandered out onto the balcony, and I completely forgot about the fact that I’d soon be traipsing around half-naked in public on purpose as visions of Tom in all of Lestat’s various incarnations flooded my brain. Simon’s knuckles rapping on my noggin snapped me out of my trance.

“Martina’s on her way up. Look alive, woman.”

Blinking as I looked up and met his gaze, I reached out and poked his thigh. “So…who are YOU dressing as?”

“Draco Malfoy.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking. Luke and I are coordinating. Harry Potter universe.”

I leapt off the bed. “Luke as Harry? That is just…it’s too…adorable. I can’t wait…”

Simon shook his head. “Ah, ah, ah…not Harry.”

My head tilted to the side. “Not Harry?”

“Not Harry.”

“But…who…Ron?” He shook his head. “Dumbledore?” Another shake. “Hermione?” A snort, then a wide smirk, followed by a deadpan expression as he spilled the beans.

“Snape.”

“GET THE FUCK OUT.” Just as the words were out of my mouth someone knocked on the door. “Shit. Go get that. I’m going to hide.”

He answered, and an hour and a half later we were dressed and ready to roll. Martina had painted my nails gold and adorned me with varying shades of green eyeshadow, heavy black liner, and black lipstick. The wig was black as well, the very realistic faux hair nearly reaching my ass. Golden horns topped it off, thankfully made entirely of plastic, the headband portion set with a huge faux emerald smack in the middle. There were strips of gold sequins taped onto the edges of my bra that formed a triangle, and a matching band to go over the belt portion of the skirt. Elbow-length pieces of fabric that resembled gloves with no fingers were wrapped with gold elastic string, and then came…the boots. They were black leather, skin-tight thigh high lace-ups with a two and a half inch platform at the toe, a 4 inch chunky heel and I loved them more than I’d ever loved any other pair of boots I’d ever worn, ankles be damned. The cape turned out to be way too long…like five inches too long, so that was scrapped because that plus platform boots was a perfect recipe for disaster. One or the other, yes. Both, no fucking way.

Simon’s wig made his eyes stand out even more than his natural blond, and his gleeful expression when he exited the bathroom in his robe made me wonder if he was wearing anything underneath it, at which point I closed my eyes and thought of truffles to distract myself. Martina gathered her things, wished us luck, smirked in my direction and away she went.

I rested my right hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Gotta say, you make a damn lovely Draco. So is this like a May-December romance thing after you’ve left Hogwarts or what? Of course we’ll have to ignore the fact that Snape, you know, DIES…”

“Maude, since you’ve attempted to put a damper on my fantasy I’m going to call your fiancé because if seeing him…and I know what he looks like, Luke sent me a pic…doesn’t shut you up, nothing EVER will.”

“You realize you’ve just essentially invited me to tackle your sorry ass and snatch your phone, don’t you?” As I moved my hand to his chest and began to push, the door opened, and I spun around so quickly I almost fell over. Luke was in the doorway, his black wig in motion, tendrils of hair brushing his chin as his head turned forward. He bit his lip at the sight of Simon, and I heard Simon gasp behind me at the same time. Luke began to stride in our direction, and as he drew closer I saw an arm holding the door open, the body attached to it not yet visible. The fingernails were black, arm ensconced in what appeared to be a very finely woven black metallic netting, the outer portion of the bordered sleeve gaping open, held in place by a black metallic fabric tie between the wrist and the elbow that matched the border. When I noticed that the sleeve didn’t end at the wrist but instead formed a V-shaped hand wrap also made of the border fabric, crossing the top and slipping between the middle and ring fingers, it dawned on me which Lestat I’d be spending the evening with. Surprising myself, I began walking toward the source of my imminent doom instead of running to lock myself in the bathroom.

A bit of blonde hair dangled into the formerly empty doorway, followed by an incredibly pale face…his blue eyes resembled ice crystals, ringed with black liner, lids darkened with shadow, lashes ridiculously pronounced as the result of a heavy application of mascara. His lips were pinker than they normally were, a dusky shade, and the hair, my god, THE HAIR. It reached his shoulders, curly and so, so blonde and I saw FANGS and was just about to lose my shit when he slid fully into view and into the room, knees buckling at the sight of me, leaning on the wall for support.

I nodded. “Same, asshole. Same.”

He laughed, completely exposing the fangs, and I resumed my walk, grabbing hold of his jaw with my right hand when I reached him, tilting my head and leaning in to inspect his canine teeth.

“Are those, like, really…you know…attached?”

He nodded, chin still in my hand. “Uh huh.”

“As in, ‘I can totally bite stuff’ attached?”

His eyes widened, and I felt the warmth of his hand on my belly. “Uh huh.”

I released his jaw and turned to Luke and Simon. “So, um, how set are you on going to this party, exactly?”

Simon whipped his wand from his robes and pointed it at me. “Maude GALLAGHER. You can shag vampire boy LATER. We are GOING OUT. It is your BIRTHDAY. There’s a DJ and we’ve never really been out dancing before and that’s essentially CRIMINAL. I will curse you if I must. I swear it.”

Sighing, I turned to Tom once again, noting that the shirt material was actually rather iridescent as opposed to just black metallic. My eyes closed and my chin fell to my chest as I responded.

“Fine. Fine. Let’s go dancing. But I think we should take separate vehicles.”

Luke cleared his throat. “I hate to be an utter downer, but you’re our designated driver, Maude.”

Eyes still shut, I rested both hands on Tom’s shoulders. “Right. Designated driver. Okay. I can handle this.”

Tom’s arms wound around my waist as he whispered quietly in my ear. “I can’t. I’m on the verge of fucking you right here, right now, right in front of them.”

In reply I ran my tongue along his jaw, not expecting the makeup to be quite so…vile. My eyes flew open as I shook my head back and forth, tongue still sticking out, as if that would help even remotely. “Bleech. That is…man, that tastes HORRIBLE.” He responded by biting my neck, and as I felt the tips of the fangs sinking into my soft flesh I pushed back and away. “Thomas. No. No no no no no. Honey. No.”

As he chuckled I grabbed my phone and keys from the dresser, handed them to him since he had pockets in which to store them, then headed for the door.

“Come on, let’s do this before I change my mind. And you’d better move your asses, because if we aren’t on our way to the lobby in the next twenty seconds it’s game over. I mean it.”

****************************************

Tom had followed me down the stairs, muttering to himself the entire time, eventually jogging down to be by my side as I tried to focus so I wouldn’t fall and maim myself permanently. His right arm linked with my left, steadying me, voice even with a hint of incredulity.

“Lady Loki.”

I nodded. “That’s me. Were you surprised?”

“I fear may never recover from the shock, actually. Luke told me you were dressing as Loki. He left out the ‘lady’ bit.”

A very indelicate snort escaped me. “Lady bit. Lady bits. Heh. Wait, Luke told you?”

“Believe me, it took a considerable amount of effort to even get that much out of him.” His hand squeezed my forearm. “You knew who I was going to be, though.”

“Why would you think that?”

He grinned. “You didn’t faint when you saw me.”

“My, my…what a large ego you have there, Hiddleston.”

“Matches my…”

“Shut. It. And yes, I knew…but all I managed to ascertain from Simon was that you’d be turning up as Lestat, so I didn’t know WHICH Lestat.” I stopped in my tracks, three steps from the lobby floor, as I realized I hadn’t given him a complete once-over yet. His pants were black leather, but a matte finish, as were his boots, the toes squared off, and around his neck was a Sid Vicious-style padlock choker…not an official accessory, but damn, I loved it. “I’d ask if that was the actual Queen of the Damned costume but you’re four inches taller than Stuart Townsend and the pants aren’t short so…” His abs through the shirt were downright obscene, and the waistband of the trousers was low…so, so low…leaning in, I could see not only his entire happy trail but a sneaky peek of the top of his pubic thatch poking out as well. “Okay, I might faint now. Rock God Lestat equals too much hotness for poor old Lady Loki.”

His arm unlinked from mine and slipped around my waist, spurring the completion of our descent and walk toward the exit. “Ah, that’s better. That sort of compliment makes the thought of wearing leather pants to go out dancing in Hawaii much more palatable.”

“Caution is advised, Thomas. Can’t have you chafing anything and ruining my fun.”

We decided to take the Jeep…’decided’ meaning my stating that since I wasn’t drinking, I was driving whatever I wanted. Tom offered to take the wheel for the drive there, and as Simon bitched about how horrific it was to have to climb into the back seat of a Wrangler while wearing a robe I leaned back against the hood area of the passenger side. Tom, waiting for the clown circus to cease so he could tuck me safely inside the vehicle, looked me up and down repeatedly.

“Maude…honestly…you are so, so sexy in that get-up…a level of sexy that should likely be illegal.”

I lifted my arms above my head, feigning a stretch, watching his jaw clench as I wiggled my fingers high above. “Misdemeanor or felony?”

He growled as his head tilted to the left. “Woman. Get in the Jeep.” A slap on my ass as I climbed aboard made me shriek with delight, and another one followed immediately, harder, and I moaned softly for the sole purpose of torturing the poor man, smirking as I heard him mutter ‘bloody fucking hell’ under his breath.

Rob’s Bar and Grill was eight miles from the hotel, and on the twenty-minute drive my gaze moved from my ring, to Tom, back to my ring, then back to Tom, again and again. This beautiful man beside me, currently a living, breathing incarnation of my most favorite fictional character, wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. His life. With me. Us. Together. Which we’d both already known, but somehow, having a circle of silver with a stone in it on my finger made it REAL. We hadn’t been alone since he proposed, and my mind was scrambling to think of exactly how to convey how much everything he’d done today meant to me, but kept coming up blank. The words I wanted wouldn’t fall into place, only floating around my head, scrambling away as I reached out to grab them.

The parking lot was nearly full, but Tom found an out of the way place perfect for a Jeep near the very back. We walked in, four unrecognizable people merging into a crowd of a hundred or more of the same. I hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but tonight, no one had a clue who we were, any of us. Granted, if someone was a huge fan they’d know Tom upon close inspection, but at a glance…no way. For him, it was probably a very freeing feeling…but for me, it was license to behave badly on the dance floor. Dancing Queen was cranking on the sound system, the giant wall of televisions displaying an endless array of sporting events, and Simon immediately bolted for the bar, Luke in tow. I turned my head to meet Tom’s gaze.

“Do you require a beverage as well, or shall we just get down to it, Mr. Hiddleston?”

He took my hand and pulled me out onto the dance floor, wiggling his hips seductively as we worked our way through the crowd. “Down to it, if you please.”

My brows rose as we found our place and he faced me, then placed a hand on my lower back, pulling my hips in to meet his own. “Oh, I please. Do do that voodoo that you do, baby.”

Luke and Simon joined us midway through the next song, Calvin Harris’s Feel So Close, and we all lost ourselves in the music, dancing with abandon to Lean On, Connected, 1999 and Brick House before I needed to take a bathroom and soda break. Not dipping my costume in the bowl was a challenge, but I figured I’d continue to make it through the night unscathed since I wasn’t getting hammered, as long as I remembered LIFT came before SIT. The music was too loud for conversation, so we stood together between the bar and the DJ, admiring all the creative costumes. There were superheroes, of course, Superman, Batman and the Joker among them, along with werewolves, Dracula-styled vampires, zombies, witches, a ballerina, a Playboy bunny, someone who was either dressed as Weird Al or was actually Weird Al, and my personal favorite, an older couple with the woman in costume as Jimmy Buffett and the man as a giant margarita glass, complete with salt on the rim.

When Wonderful Night by Fatboy Slim began to play, we ditched our drinks and wormed our way back into the middle of the dance floor, and as I watched Tom gyrating and spinning and jumping I was reminded of how music was such a powerful force in both our lives, how it moved us, allowed us to express our own through someone else’s words…and in that moment, I thought of THE song, the one that could say for me all the things my mind couldn’t seem to put to order as yet. As Wonderful Night finished, I yelled in Tom’s ear.

“I’m going to see if the DJ takes requests, okay? Be right back.”

As I walked to his table, he looked up, saw me, then looked back down and began typing on his phone. Upon reaching him, I bent down and shouted above the din of Cotton Eye Joe, which, frankly, I was thrilled to me missing out on.

“Hi there! Love your set so far…I was wondering…do you take requests?”

 

He nodded, stood, then motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen, where it was insanely busy but much quieter. Shorter than me, native Hawaiian if I had to guess, slightly overweight with dark hair back in a ponytail and tucked under his backwards baseball cap, dressed in a black Walking Dead T-shirt and white board shorts, a huge smile lit up his face and made me smile in return.

“For you? I absolutely do. Especially if you promise to keep dancing. You and your fiancé are the life of this party, man.”

My head tilted to the side, and he laughed heartily, extending his hand. “I’m Sammy Hale, otherwise known as All Hale the DJ. My wife Melanie is a huge fan, of you and Tom both. You should have heard her screeching when she saw his Tweet earlier…heck, maybe you DID. It was that loud.”

I laughed as well, accepting his proffered hand and shaking vigorously. “Maude Gallagher. But you knew that already. So, you recognized Tom? Nicely done.”

“Do you have any idea how many pictures of that man I’ve seen? But honestly, I knew who you were first, and once he started dancing I was sure it was him. She shows me videos, too. Congratulations, by the way. Here, look at what she posted on Facebook when she found out.”

He handed me his phone, and I focused in on the screen.

“Tom and Maude just got engaged right here on the island…I’m so happy for them! What an exciting time! And imagine…what if they decide to get married here? Even crazier, what if they choose my place for the reception? I’m such a hopeless dreamer, LOL.”

Eyes wide, I returned my gaze to Sammy. “Her place?”

“Well, it’s not really her place…but she’s been there since college so it feels like it is, I guess, plus she’s very passionate about her job…she’s the head event coordinator at the Coconut Beach Marriott.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “It’s a beautiful hotel, perfect setting, amazing beach…”

“Oh, I’m aware. That’s where we’re staying.” I pulled up his contacts, which was probably rude, but when fate intervenes you have to set such things as. “This is my personal cell number. Will you have her call me, please? We are getting married on Kauai, and the Marriott never crossed my mind as a reception location until right now. June 29th, 2016…that all needs to be kept under wraps, though…”

He looked shell-shocked as I handed him back his phone. “She has prior experience with celebrity weddings that required thorough confidentiality. Wow. This is…this is off the hook. It’s going to take me a good while to convince her I’m not yanking her chain when I tell her.”

Hand on my hip, I pointed at him. “Tell you what…Tom and I will do a video hello for her to send first so she knows for sure you met us, then you can break the news later. Sound good?”

His head shook back and forth slowly. “Sometimes, the universe just sets such amazing things you never expected right in front of you…”

“HA! Tell me about it. So…about my requests…” I provided him with my short list of songs, then revealed my plan, which he seemed nearly as excited about as I was. I went out and brought Tom into the kitchen to film our video hello for Melanie, who was, we were told, out trick or treating with their three little ones, ages eight, five and two. Once it was sent off, it was back to dancing. And, for me, waiting, riddled with anxiety and wondering if I’d be able to pull off what I’d decided to do without fucking it up too badly.

I lost track of time and space, especially after being whirled around to You Should Be Dancing, and how many songs had played between that and Poison by the Prodigy, I had not a clue…but that song and the one after were my cues, and I was at once grateful to have recognized the first but terrified that it was almost…time. Tom grinned fiendishly when he heard the opening notes, and we danced separately at first, him pausing during one section where the beat allowed me to do some hula-like hip shaking, then spinning me around so he could grind up against me until it was over. That was followed Steve Aoki’s Freak, during which I fully exercised my right to behave badly. Very, very badly, rubbing my scantily clad nether region up and down his leather covered thigh, bending over in front of him, his hands on my hips as he bucked against me, grabbing my ass occasionally, ending with his turning me back towards him and lifting my leg up so I could wrap it around his waist. After the last beat, I pulled away from him and headed once again to the DJ table, and Sammy handed me a microphone. Several deep breaths later in the strange silence, I began.

“Um, hi. Terribly sorry to interrupt the tunes, but…” I pointed at Tom, whose makeup had begun to run just a tiny bit, hair damp with sweat, body glistening with it as well, standing and staring at me with an expression of puzzlement upon his face. “That beautiful man right there…a few hours ago, he proposed to me in the most spectacular way possible.”

The crowd cheered and I held up my left hand, waggling my fingers. “Of course I said YES.” Everyone laughed, and I honed in on him, everything else becoming a blur. “Tom, I love you. So much. You…you are my everything. What you did for me today, how much my life has changed since we met here, on this island, back in June…I can never seem to find the right words to properly convey how it’s made me feel. So, I’m going to use someone else’s. And I’m going to sing them, because I think you kind of like it when I sing.”

The crowd had cleared around him, and he’d come closer, now standing six feet away, and as he nodded I could see his eyes had filled with tears. The song began to play, Flyleaf’s All Around Me, which was probably unknown to most of the folks at Rob’s, and perhaps to Tom as well…but it was perfect, and I sang along with Lacey Sturm, though Sammy had muted her vocals down to what essentially amounted to background noise.

“My hands are searching for you  
My arms are outstretched towards you  
I feel you on my fingertips  
My tongue dances behind my lips for you

This fire rising through my being  
Burning I’m not used to seeing you

I’m alive, I’m alive

I can feel you all around me  
Thickening the air I’m breathing  
Holding on to what I’m feeling  
Savoring this heart that’s healing

My hands float up above me  
And you whisper you love me  
And I begin to fade  
Into our secret place

The music makes me sway  
The angels singing say we are alone with you  
I am alone and they are too with you

I’m alive  
I’m alive

I can feel you all around me  
Thickening the air I’m breathing  
Holding on to what I’m feeling  
Savoring this heart that’s healing

So I cry  
(Holy)  
The light is white  
(Holy)  
And I see you

I’m alive  
I’m alive  
I’m alive

And I can feel you all around me  
Thickening the air I’m breathing  
Holding on to what I’m feeling  
Savoring this heart that’s healing

Take my hand  
I give it to you  
Now you own me  
All I am  
You said you would never leave me  
I believe you  
I believe

I can feel you all around me  
Thickening the air I’m breathing  
Holding on to what I’m feeling  
Savoring this heart that’s healed”

As was my habit, I lowered my chin to my chest once I finished. I knew I’d struggled with a few bits that were at the upper edge of my range, but to my ear, at least, it had sounded okay overall. When I raised my head up, I saw Tom, openly weeping and rushing towards me, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck as the crowd began to applaud and cheer. I rubbed his back as he murmured words of thanks and adoration in my ear, finally pulling back to look into my eyes.

“Pretty sure I already knew it, but now it’s completely crystal clear to me…asking you to be my wife was by far the smartest decision I’ve ever made, and likely ever WILL make. Thank you, for saying yes, for being willing to spend the rest of your life with me, ME, for loving me, and for that song. I will never forget this day, this hour, this moment…my god, how I love you…”

I poked his shoulder. “Dude. Shush. You’re totally stealing my thunder.”

We both laughed, and when we heard ourselves do so over the sound system, it dawned on me that the mic was still hot, and I brought it up to my lips again.

“Well, now you know why I had to resort to singing, right?” The crowd erupted in laughter as I flicked the off switch, and seemingly out of nowhere Luke and Simon arrived, embracing Tom and I from either side. Simon’s wig was mildly askew, and I made a huffing noise.

“Um, Simon…did you, like HEAR me sing or were you, like, BUSY?”

A rare blush spread across his cheeks. “So, who’s ready to head back to the hotel?”

Luke was red as a beet as well, and I snorted.

“I’m not sure whether I should be pissed or proud. How about I decide on the ride?”

They bolted towards the door, and Tom took my hand, leading me outside and to the Jeep without another word.

****************************************

The relative silence continued as I drove, just the noise of the wind, all of our windows rolled down to let in the night air. We said our goodnights in the hallway, and as soon as the door closed behind us Tom had me up against the wall, a sense of deja vu washing over me. His mouth found mine, tongue thrusting in roughly, groaning as I bit down on it gently before sucking firmly. Moving my head the way I wanted was entirely too challenging with the horns on, so I yanked them off and tossed them across the room, along with the arm wraps. He buried one hand in my fake hair, and I could feel him fumbling behind me with the other, searching for the bra clasp. I grabbed his arms, pulled them in front of me, then placed his hands on my breasts, hoping he’d get the hint. Instead, he opted to show off his motorboating skills, followed by testing his fangs, dragging them back and forth across my still-covered nipples.

“Fuck. Tom. Front. It’s in the front. Take it off. OFF.”

A moment passed as he pondered the mechanics of the thing, followed by my boobs springing free as he slid the straps off my shoulders, down my arms, off my wrists, pulling it from behind me and finally dropping it unceremoniously onto the carpet. The right nipple was his first target, laving it with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth, then biting it gently until I swatted him away, at which point he switched to the left one. Using his hands, he pressed my breasts together, tongue sliding back and forth quickly from nipple to nipple, my head flopping back against the wall, eyes closed. Suddenly, he was gone, and when I opened my eyes he was staring at the belt, and when the latch that closed it couldn’t be easily located, he forced the belt and attached fabric over my hips, taking the booty shorts along with it, tapping first one leg, then the other, prompting me to lift each in turn so he could slip the shorts over my boots and move the belt out of the danger zone.

I watched as his eyes roamed over me, standing naked but for my thigh-high boots, and I could see he was rock hard right through the leather. Reaching out, I lifted the hem of his shirt and yanked upward, and he lifted his arms, licking his lips, eyes rolling back into his head as I paused to flick his nipples with my tongue. He stepped back, completing the removal of the shirt himself, grunted, then rotated me roughly until I was facing the wall. It was then that he spoke his first words, other than wishing Simon and Luke a good night, since we left the bar.

“Arms above your head, all the way up. Hands on the wall.” Short, curt, and nearly a growl. I complied, moaning as his hands grasped my inner thighs, pushing outward, indicating that I should spread my legs. I complied with that, as well, hearing the sound of a snap coming undone and zipper being pulled as I moved. His cock dripped into the crack of my ass as he gauged our alignment.

“That’s it. Just like that. Don’t move a muscle.”

His left hand wrapped around my wrists, holding them to the wall, and with his right he guided himself to my entrance, just the tip of him nudging inside. As I began to push backward, the same hand moved first to stroke my belly, then downward, his middle finger reaching into my folds to circle my clit as he thrust forward, my hips hitting the wall as he slid home. He’d left just enough room to allow his finger to continue its stroking, but left me no way to move, pinned in place hanging on his cock. And because apparently that wasn’t enough torture, that’s when his fangs sank into my neck, causing me to orgasm without even the slightest warning, clamping down on him, desperate for friction but unable to attain it.

“Oh god oh my god ohmygod Tom…I need…need…you…move…you have to move. MOVE. Please. PLEASE.”

He ignored me, focused intently on my neck, biting, sucking and finally licking the spot he was finished with, then moving on to another. That pain, mingled with the pleasure originating from his consistently stroking finger, drew me to the brink, easing off whenever his mouth relocated, and just when I was ready to begin to genuinely protest against his edging, he began circling his hips in time with his finger.

“Is that better, Maude? Need my cock in motion, do you? Need to feel it rubbing against every bit of you, pressing against your walls, round and round we go, where we stop, nobody knows?”

“Fuck off.”

He stopped moving.

“Okay, fine. How about fuck ME instead?”

Nothing but stillness. Even his finger had ceased its ministrations.

“Thomas.”

Nada. Time to break out the big guns, then. Fulfilling, months later, a request he’d made back in New Orleans. I started to sing Closer.

“You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you  
You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you  
Help me I broke apart my insides, help me I’ve got no soul to sell  
Help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself”

He swallowed, hard enough that I could feel it against my back. I continued.

“I want to fuck you like an animal  
I want to feel you from the inside  
I want to fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed  
You get me closer to god”

 

He began moving again, but much faster, adding thrusts to his circling.

“You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings  
You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything  
Help me tear down my reason, help me its’ your sex I can smell  
Help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else”

When I got to the word ‘perfect’ he groaned, loud and long and full of neediness, almost throwing me off my tempo as he let go of my wrists, pulled out of me and spun me around.

“I want to fuck you like an animal  
I want to feel you from the inside”

He lifted my left leg by the back of the knee, holding it aloft and allowing me to wrap it around his waist as he shoved himself back into me, eyes on mine, wild, pupils fully blown, jaw clenched, tips of the fangs resting on the edge of his lower lip. I leaned back against the wall, his weight pinning me again as I lifted the other leg and wrapped it around his waist as well.

“I want to fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed  
You get me closer to god”

 

He began slamming into me, pulling out, then slamming in again, our gazes still locked, my hands clenched together behind his neck. I leaned forward to run my tongue across his lips.

“That’s it. Come on. Fuck me.”

His breathing was labored, his reply more of a grunt as he moved faster and faster. “Like. An. Animal.”

“Mmm hmm. Just like that.” I began bucking against him as his finger found my clit again. “More. Harder. More. Make me scream.”

He lowered his head, breaking eye contact in order to sink his teeth into the unmarked side of my neck, and that’s when, I did, in fact, scream. Entirely too loudly for well past 9 PM, even on a Saturday. The bite grew ever harder as he stifled his own scream, spurting inside me as my walls convulsed around him, finally letting go just as I thought the skin would break.

We stilled, coming down, without separating. He leaned back a bit, inspecting his work.

“Well. That…I…lord, are you all right?”

I snorted. “I think it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“I sincerely hope that’s the case. Sorry, love. You singing to me in conjunction with watching nearly every man in that bar gawking at you resulted in my feeling incredibly…territorial.”

“Men were gawking at me?”

Both eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t notice?”

I shook my head. “That’d be a big ‘ole NOPE. Probably because that, like, never happens. And don’t be sorry. I spent a good portion of the evening relishing how those fangs felt on my neck and dying for…more.” A huge grin spread across my face. “I adore your feeling territorial…like you enjoyed my jealousy, I suppose. Next time if the urge to shout ‘Stop ogling my girlfriend you blood louts!’ arises, I totally won’t hold it against you if you succumb to it.”

“Fiancée.”

After unwinding my legs one at a time and ensuring the solidity of my feet on the floor, I removed my hands from behind his neck and stared at my ring as he slipped out of me. “Fiancée. By the time I’m used to saying that, it’ll be ‘wife’.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “But that will be the only other name you’ll ever have to get used to. Well, except for mum…”

I looked down at myself, naked but for the boots and the ring, and began to giggle.

A smile spread across his face. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, really. Just that there’s a man in leather pants, wearing a blond wig and sporting vampire teeth with his cock hanging out, talking to a woman wearing only thigh-high lace-up leather boots, an engagement ring and a smile about…about…” My giggles turned into chortling. “KIDS. About having kids. And I can’t help but see it…us, when we’re like, fifty, sneaking into a bedroom late at night, neglecting to lock the door and a Hiddlespawn wandering in and seeing us…like this…ohmygod…”

He threw back his head, laughing that infectious laugh that was uniquely his. “We’ll just explain that sex is a natural thing, that it’s a wonderful, beautiful expression of love between two people and that sometimes…”

“Bwhahahaha! SOMETIMES, kid, you inadvertently discover that your parents are kinky as fuck when you don’t KNOCK before entering a room.”

After composing ourselves, we provided wig removal assistance for each other, then hit the shower. Tom got out before I did, and just as I finished drying off and putting on my robe there was a knock at the door. I turned to Tom, eyes wide.

“Christ, Simon and Luke have to be passed out by now for sure, so who the hell is THAT?”

He shrugged and answered it, his black shorts hanging low on his hips, and when the door closed he turned around, a covered dish in his left hand. He walked to the desk, set it down, and removed the lid, revealing a cheesecake topped with strawberries, a tiny Happy Birthday pick and six candles. I swiped the side of it with my index finger, then licked…and as soon as it hit my taste buds, I gasped.

“Hiddleston. That’s a Carnegie Deli cheesecake.”

Nodding, he leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Did you think I’d dare forget CAKE? Happy Birthday, Maude.”

I pinched his arm. Hard. He jumped, squealing. “Sorry. I just needed to make sure you were real. So now I have confirmation of that, which is cool. But a real…what? That’s the question. Because you CANNOT be human. And…whatever it is that you are…how is it that you’re…mine?”

His arms wrapped around my waist from my left side, chin on my shoulder. “I hope you realize that I ask myself those same questions. Repeatedly. And, I think in order to answer them, we have to consider that…maybe…maybe apart, we’re human…but together, we’re something that transcends that, those earthly, tangible limitations.”

“Huh. You know what? I think that together…that something…it manifests itself as human again. That’s…it’s…that’s…children.”

A sharp intake of breath from him, followed by a gentle kiss on my neck. “I believe you’re on to something there, my love.”

Twisting my head so I could meet his gaze, I winked. “I believe I totally one-upped you there, my love.”

He laughed. “Oh, you most definitely did. I’m impressed.”

“Heh. Prepare to be even more thoroughly impressed as I devour this entire cheesecake.”

His nose nuzzled against my clavicle. “None for me?”

Sighing, I patted his arm. “Well, I suppose if you do a decent job of singing happy birthday you can have a slice. A SMALL slice…”

He lit the candles, sang it Hank style, and as I blew out the candles I realized that there really wasn’t anything left for me to wish for. Everything I could ever have wanted, or needed, was right there in that room, and as we gorged ourselves sitting out on the balcony, admiring the three-quarter moon reflecting on the water, the truth of the lyrics from the song I’d sung for him overwhelmed me, ‘I can feel you all around me, thickening the air I’m breathing, holding on to what I’m feeling, savoring this heart that’s healed’ and I leapt up from my chair and stood before him, taking his face in my hands, tilting his head upward as I spoke eight simple words that made us both weep.

 

“Thank you. For everything. I love you. Always.”


	36. Chapter 36

The call came four weeks into the Skull Island shoot, just prior to Tom’s short Thanksgiving break.

It was Monday, and I was out on the deck of the waterfront cottage we’d rented at the Paradise Bay Resort, about six miles or so from Kualoa Ranch. They’d been filming there in addition to other locations in the Waikane Valley, and though Legendary provided housing, Tom spent as many nights and weekends with me as possible. I’d passed on meeting any of the cast or team so far, wanting to allow him to work as he was accustomed, as well as preventing myself from interfering and/or becoming a distraction. That, of course, meant super late nights and group activities on some weekends, but I was so buried with Prosper work, Manageall development, fulfilling my maid of honor duties for Simon and starting to plan my own wedding that any time we spent apart went by incredibly quickly.

I reached for my phone where it rested to the left of my laptop and tablet, smiling when I unlocked it and saw the picture of Tom I’d chosen, him laughing, fresh out of the shower, wearing only a towel as he lunged toward me.

“Wow, Maude. Such professionalism.”

The cast, director and producers were scheduled for a lunch meeting today wherein they’d be discussing schedule and script changes, so I hadn’t expected him to call at all, though he normally did when they broke for lunch on set. My phone time read 3:17 PM as I tapped the answer button.

“Hey, you…how was the meeting?”

Silence greeted me, followed by the sound of a woman clearing her throat, then speaking.

“Maude?”

My brain raced through a hundred scenarios as to why a woman would be calling me from his phone, and I not only had to force myself to answer, but it took every ounce of rationality I possessed to not flip the fuck out.

“Yes…who’s this?”

“It’s Brie, Maude…I’m sorry to bother you, and oh god it’s totally weird that I’m calling from Tom’s phone, I know, but I was afraid if I used my own you wouldn’t pick up and I didn’t want to leave a message and risk not hearing from you right away…”

As I realized it was his co-star, a coldness began to work its way from my chest to my extremities. “Did something happen? Is he all right? Where is he?”

“We’re at the house, cast housing. He’s not hurt, sorry, damn, I knew I’d scare the heck out of you no matter how I tried to explain it…anyway, we had lunch at a restaurant and, well, as it turns out the special was grilled chicken Caesar salad and like three-quarters of us had it and whoever ate it now has food poisoning. There’s a doctor coming in just to check on everyone, and Tom’s in pretty bad shape and you’re close by so I figured you might want to come here because there’s no way he can travel right now. He didn’t want anyone to call you but…”

Able to breathe again, I silently thanked the universe for keeping him at least relatively safe. Food poisoning. Okay. I could handle that. Probably. “Of course he didn’t. Brie, thank you, so much. Do you know the address of the house? I have no clue where it is, but I’m guessing I can be there in like twenty minutes or so.”

She gave me the details, and I mapped the route on my phone straight away, then set to packing up some spare clothing for both of us, as well as some water, a twelve pack of Coke, and some straws. I had no idea what to expect, as I’d managed to live on the planet for nearly four decades without experiencing the true horror of food borne illness, other than some occasional diarrhea. Which, frankly, was fucking bad enough. But I’d had the stomach flu enough times to know that what he was currently enduring in all likelihood sucked giant monkey balls. Kong-sized, even.

Traffic was light, which both surprised me and made me realize that I didn’t leave the cottage very often because driving the Jeep was, like, challenging. It was yet another Wrangler, but this time bright yellow. Which I didn’t care for, but the discount at the rental company was awesome and that was all they’d had left. I was, of course, too lazy to check back and change it out for another one…and also aware that such a thing was just shy of totally petty.

As I pulled into the driveway I whistled…it was a huge, beautiful, modern house with SO many windows, and like the beach rental we’d stayed in during the summer, I could see clear through to the ocean. I parked off to the side as to not block anyone in, then got out, grabbed my bag and headed for the door. An adorable woman with dirty blonde hair flung it open, waving.

“Hi, Maude. That was fast. I’m so glad you came…he’s a mess. And so is everyone else. Just him and four other guys here, Tom has his own suite.” She smiled and held out her hand. “So happy to finally meet you, though I’m sorry it’s under such…erm, unpleasant circumstances.”

I accepted her hand shook it briefly. “Happy to meet you too, and thanks again for reaching out.”

“Not a problem. Follow me, I’ll take you to his room.”

The faint scent of vomit assaulted my nostrils as we walked across the tilted open-concept living and kitchen area, then up a flight of steps to our left, the planks made of native wood, the rest stainless steel and glass. She knocked on the first white door to our right, and when there was no answer she turned to me, whispering.

“Maybe he’s in the bathroom…you should probably just go on inside.”

Left brow rising, I whispered as well. “Does he know I’m coming?”

She shook her head, smiling timidly. “No. Sorry. I didn’t…”

I nodded, right hand up, palm extended toward her. “I understand. Totally cool. Far better that I just appear so he doesn’t waste his energy arguing.”

“Yeah, that’s how I felt about it. Oh, his phone…” She pulled it out of her back pocket and passed it to me. “I snagged it last time I knocked and got no answer. Man, I feel really bad for all of them…and I’m really, really glad I had a vegan wrap. Good luck, Maude. I’m going to head out as soon as the doctor gets here, which should be soon. I hope. The smell is making me feel…not so good.”

“It’s…pungent, that’s for sure. Thanks again for calling me, Brie.”

“You’re very welcome.” She gave me a quick squeeze, then headed back downstairs as I turned the knob and opened the door to Tom’s room. The floors were white tile, the walls a pale blue, with a gorgeous view of the ocean out the floor to ceiling windows…and it smelled like I’d stepped into a parmesan cheese factory, which is what puke had always smelled like to me. Mixed in for fun was and acrid sweat and other unmentionables. The furniture was native wood, and the light-blue bedding was all askew…with no sign of Tom. To the right of the bed was another door, and as I approached I heard retching.

For several minutes, I remained silent, waiting for a break in his torment, and when it finally came I knocked gently and spoke his name.

“Tom?”

A groan, followed by another retch, then a reply. His voice was raspy, weak, and I immediately wanted to barge in to…to do…something, anything.

“Maude? Is that…is that you? Or am I hallucinating? Oh god. Somebody make it stop.” More retching, and I swung the door inward. He was completely naked on the bowl with a small bucket, most likely the bathroom garbage can, resting on his knees. His face was ashen, hair flattened with sweat, and the dark circles under his eyes made me flinch when he looked up at me. I walked to his side, placing the back of my hand on his forehead…he was blazing hot, and shivering wildly. His hand reached up, shakily grabbing my wrist. “Is it you? Are you real?”

Nodding, I bent to kiss his forehead. “It’s me. I’m real. What can I do to help you, babe?”

His teeth had begun to chatter. “I…I don’t know…every time I go back to the bed, I have to get up again and I’m so tired but I can’t sleep and I’m sorry that you’re seeing me like this and that you had to come here…” A tear ran down his left cheek and I brushed it away with my thumb.

“Thomas William Hiddleston, there is no other place I would rather be right now. Okay, that might not be entirely truthful. How about there’s no one I’d rather be WITH…”

He smiled wanly, then retched again, eyes glassy when he finished and turned them up to me. “Sorry. I’m just dry heaving at this point…there’s nothing left to come out. Not at this end anyway. Can you…will you step out for a minute?”

I exited, closed the door behind me, and walked over to the windows to allow him as much privacy as possible, waiting until the flushing stopped before going back in. He’d put the bucket on the floor next to him, and was holding on to the sink vanity to his right, attempting to rise. I slipped one arm around his waist.

“Want to go lie down?” He nodded slowly. “Okay. Lean on me. Let’s get you there.”

Our height difference was an obstacle, but we managed to reach the bed without me letting him fall to the floor. He was so feeble it was frightening. I tucked him in, blankets up around his chin, then sat beside him on the mattress, legs crossed in front of me, knees touching his ribs, my sandals cast off onto the tile haphazardly.

Another tiny smile appeared on his so-very-pale face. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry you feel like…like…”

The smile widened. “Death?”

I took his hand in mine and began rubbing his wrist with my thumb. “That bad, eh?”

“Well, maybe more like wishing for death, I guess.” He reached across and placed his other hand on my bare knee. “How did you know to come?”

“Brie called me.”

He frowned. “I didn’t want anyone to call you.” The frown faded quickly. “But I’m very glad someone did.”

I smoothed back his hair. “Me too.” His eyelids fluttered. “Try and get some rest, babe. I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?”

“Oh. Kay.”

Twenty minutes later he woke up moaning and clutching his stomach, racing to the bathroom on his own, powered purely by adrenaline. I helped him back to bed once he’d finished, and every twenty minutes for the next two hours the cycle continued, leaving him more and more frustrated and exhausted. At around ten after six the doctor popped his head into the room after three short, sharp knocks. He was my height, chubby and bald, with dark framed glasses. After examining Tom thoroughly, his official diagnosis was indeed food poisoning, the likely culprit Staphylococcus aureus based on the time between ingestion and onset of symptoms. I was left with a 24/7 contact number, a six pack of adult Pedialyte, and a handout listing signs of dehydration. If any of said signs appeared, I was to take him to the nearest ER right away. The good news was that his symptoms would likely improve by morning, and introducing the Pedialyte whenever Tom expressed an interest was permissible since he was no longer vomiting. One teaspoon every fifteen minutes until he kept it down for at least an hour, then after that, it was fine to follow the instructions on the bottle. Nothing solid for at least another day, and then bland foods until the diarrhea ceased. I took a deep breath, hoping he’d just sail through, but still the worry threatened to overwhelm me and I knew I’d be obsessively checking him for dry mouth and heart palpitations. The sound of his voice pulled me back from the edge of an anxiety attack, and I put the pamphlet on the bed next to me as I felt his hand on my arm.

“Maude? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Totally fine. How are you doing?” Deflect and divert. Go Maude.

“You went rather pale there. This isn’t contagious, is it? I thought I heard…”

I shook my head. “Yep. The doctor said the type of food poisoning you have isn’t contagious.”

“But what if he’s wrong about the type? I don’t…”

Taking his hand in mine, I brought it up to my lips and kissed it. “You should SO not be worrying about me. You shouldn’t be worrying about ANYTHING. Okay?”

He shifted toward me, groaning with the effort. “You’re worried.”

The man knew me entirely too well. I sighed. “Sorry. Yes. I’m worried, mainly about my ability to take care of you properly. I’ve never done anything like this before, other than maybe an after party make sure no one chokes and dies session. And never for anyone I actually, you know, cared about. I apologize in advance for sucking.”

A soft snort escaped him, and I knew there was a suggestive comment on the tip of his tongue, but he dozed off again prior to making it.

Four hours later the stomach cramps had gotten so bad he was no longer able to sleep at all, instead shivering next to me while curled into a fetal position while I rubbed his back lightly. That was followed by another bout of throwing up….this go round consisting of a yellowish substance that the internet told me was likely bile. Afterward, the cramping subsided significantly and he managed to sleep for an entire hour, during which I cleaned the bathroom. It was a challenge to say the least, as I all I had was toilet paper, antibacterial soap, hand sanitizer and some towels, but by the time he woke up every surface had been scoured and most offensive odors eradicated. It was my hope that doing so would help with the nausea, but, truthfully, I had no fucking clue if anything I was doing helped at all. 

He’d called my name, and I approached the bed anticipating another bathroom assistance mission. Instead, he pointed at the Pedialyte.

“I’m thirsty…may I have some of that, please?”

My head tilted to the right, seemingly of its own volition. “Do you need me to walk you to the bathroom first?”

“I don’t think so, no. But I am very, very thirsty.”

Perhaps a corner had been turned. I removed one of the bottles from the shrink wrap, then set it back down on the nightstand when realized I didn’t have a teaspoon.

“Okay. I need to find a teaspoon. The kitchen here’s fully equipped, right?” He nodded, and I kissed his forehead. “Be right back.”

I walked down the steps, turned around and headed for the kitchen. The cabinets were white with glass inserts, stainless hardware and quartz countertops. The silverware was in the top drawer of the island, and I grabbed two teaspoons and washed them off in the sink, just in case. As I reached the steps to return to Tom’s room, the eerie quiet of the house totally creeped me out and I half jogged to my destination. When I opened the door, there he was, sitting up, bottle to his lips and head tilted back as he took three huge gulps right in front of me.

“THOMAS. WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?”

His eyes widened as he lowered the bottle to chest height. “Drinking. Should I not be drinking? I was thirsty. I’m sorry. Is it going to start all over again now? I don’t think I can take any more. I don’t…” His lower lip began to tremble, and I ran over to the bed, gently taking the bottle from him and setting in on the nightstand once again, then wrapped my arms around him.

“Honey, honey…it’s okay. I’m sorry for being loud. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right here, you’re going to be fine. Please don’t cry.” Not only did I not want him to cry because it would make me feel like the biggest piece of shit to ever walk the planet, I didn’t want it to happen because it could impact his hydration level.

He nestled his head in the crook of my neck, and I straddled him, keeping all my weight on my knees. His skin was still warm, but not as blazing hot as it had been earlier. I lifted him off me slowly, hands pushing on his shoulders, and was surprised by his hand suddenly touching my face.

“Maude…I…love you. Tired. Lie with me?”

“I love you too. I’m not sure you should lie flat, though…” I climbed off him, and as soon as I let go of his shoulders he began to slump backward. “Can you sit up just a little longer? I have an idea.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs with his head in his hands. I figured if he remained upright there’d be less of a chance of him throwing up, which I was probably totally pulling out of my ass, but I was hopeful that some sort of instinct was responsible for my thought process. First I piled all the pillows near the wooden headboard on his side of the bed, then grabbed our phones from my pocket and set it on the nightstand. Lastly, I took my shorts off and positioned myself behind him, legs open, back against the pillows.

“Okay, all you need to is slide back. Can you do that?”

Instead, he turned himself to the side, legs flung over my right thigh with his ass centered between my own legs. His right arm slipped around me and he again nestled his head in the crook of my neck, the side of his torso pressed up against my front, left hand resting on my right shoulder. As I began to embrace him, he pulled back and tugged at my shirt, his voice barely audible.

“Off. Skin.”

I removed it as requested, then wiggled out of my bra. He snuggled back into me, a small smile upon his lips. In that moment I was struck by the fragility of this life, how quickly things change, and how loving so deeply was both a blessing and a curse. A terror began to grip me as I realized that one of us would more than likely leave this earth before the other, and I just couldn’t imagine not wanting to die myself right then and there if I was the one left behind. He kissed my neck, and I reminded myself to try to be grateful for every moment. Every single one. All the time.

“Maude?”

I took a deep breath before replying, afraid I might burst into tears. “Yeah babe?”

“Sing to me?”

“Absolutely. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“A song.”

After running through my repertoire, I decided on “You’ve Got the Love”, the Florence + the Machine version. Doing the whole thing acapella was going to be interesting, and never before had I wished that a magical harp and band would appear out of thin air to rescue me. The song had religious undertones and was essentially about God, but in my head I always un-capitalized everything to make it, you know, NOT. I took a deep breath and began, lowering my normal volume considerably, singing as if it were a lullaby.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air  
I know I can count on you  
Sometimes I feel like saying, “lord, I just don’t care.”  
But you’ve got the love I need to see me through

Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough  
And things go wrong no matter what I do  
Now and then it seems that life is just too much  
But you’ve got the love I need to see me through

When food is gone you are my daily meal  
When friends are gone I know my saviour’s love is real  
You know it’s real

You got the love  
You got the love  
You got the love  
You got the love  
You got the love  
You got the love

Time after time I think, “Oh, lord, what’s the use?”  
Time after time I think it’s just no good  
‘Cause sooner or later in life, the things you love you lose  
But you got the love I need to see me through.

 

You got the love  
You got the love  
You got the love  
You got the love  
You got the love  
You got the love

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air  
'Cause I know I can count on you  
Sometimes I feel like saying, “lord, I just don’t care.”  
But you’ve got the love I need to see me through

Midway through I felt his breathing change and his body relax, and sure enough, by the time I’d finished he was out cold. I placed a gentle kiss on his temple, then eased back into the pillows and stared at the room around me…I’d neglected to turn out the light, but there was no way I was disturbing him to rectify the situation. The contents paled in comparison to what I held in my arms, so I opted to gaze upon that instead. He was so peaceful in sleep, and the way he was curled up against me made him appear almost childlike, delicate and ethereal. I counted freckles, still one of my favorite pastimes, and it was exceedingly difficult to not trace them with my fingers. The worry reared its ugly head again, and I pushed it back by telling myself that he’d kept down liquids for at least a little while, and that he seemed to be resting comfortably. He stirred briefly, and I wondered if perhaps he was chilly in the air-conditioned room, so I used my right arm to reach the blankets and pull them over him. That seemed to do the trick, and I must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing I knew it was morning.

“Maude?” A hand on my shoulder. The sound of someone drinking and swallowing. My eyelids felt as if they were made of lead, and opening them seemed an almost insurmountable task. I squinted, waiting for my contacts to clear enough for me to actually see, and once they did there he was, face inches from mine, still paler than normal, but his eyes had light in them once again, despite the huge dark circles beneath. His rear end was still between my legs, but he was sitting fully upright, the bottle of Pedialyte in his right hand three quarters of the way gone. He smiled, that adorable adoring smile. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How long have you been awake? How do you feel? Do you need help getting to the bathroom or anything…”

“About twenty minutes, like I might actually survive, and I’m not sure yet. What I do know is I’ve never been this thirsty in my entire life.” He finished off the bottle. “Can I have another, do you think?”

I placed the back of my hand on his forehead…no fever as far as I could tell. “Um, probably? But maybe you should wait a few minutes…”

He swung his legs and spun around so they were now resting over my left thigh, his arm reaching out to tug another Pedialyte from the shrink wrap. After grabbing it, he simply said ‘shit’ then leaned into me again.

“What’s up? Nausea? Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Bathroom?”

His voice was mildly muffled, his breath on my neck. “Just a little light headed. Perhaps I moved too quickly.”

I snorted. “Ya think? Take it easy, Thomas. Let me do stuff, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you for the song last night.” He fumbled for my hand, gripping loosely when he found it. “I love that one. Hearing you sing it just for me was…and you taking care of me…I feel so…”

“Light headed and thirsty?”

He laughed softly as I helped ease him back into a sitting position. “Loved, actually. But that too.”

After another full bottle of Pedialyte, I escorted him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth and then served as his official shower aide, shampooing, soaping and rinsing. He sat on the wall bench within the enclosure while I cleaned myself up, watching me and smiling when I met his gaze, but when I snuck a peek now and again the fact that he was far from well was glaringly apparent. Once dried and dressed, he stretched out on the bed, sighing heavily.

“Maude, I’m knackered. Completely. I don’t think I can be Captain Conrad today.”

I’d just latched my bra and turned to him, mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I need to call Jordan. I hate to hold everyone up but I just…well, maybe some coffee will get me going?”

“Dude. No. Just because you seem to be done puking and stuff doesn’t mean you’re, like, BETTER. You need to rest, drink lots of clear liquids and maybe have some chicken broth. You’re not supposed to even eat solid food until tomorrow. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who’ll be MIA.” I retrieved his phone from the nightstand and handed it to him. “Here. Call.”

I finished dressing as they spoke, wrestling my hair into an elastic, coming in on the tail end of the conversation.

“Okay, man. Thanks. No, no, it’s cool. You can’t tell about these things. It was a really nice place. It happens. I’ll see you next Tuesday. Happy Thanksgiving. I will. Thanks again.” He ended the call and looked up at me. “Jordan decided to shut down early, so we’re done until next week. He also said to say thank you for coming down and helping out. And Happy Thanksgiving.” He grimaced.

“Babe?”

“Just gas, I think. Doesn’t seem possible that there’s anything else left.” A few minutes later, he exhaled with a whoosh. “Okay. Better. I don’t suppose I could convince you to drive me back to our cottage, my love?”

“No convincing required. I have to stop and pick up a few things for you, though…cool?”

He nodded, and I gathered our stuff, brought it out to the Jeep, then came back for him. The steps were rough, but once he was belted in the vehicle and able to rest again I determined the trip was possible. He smiled.

“Would you mind, you know…”

I laughed. “Going slow? Yeah, I guess. But just this once.”

He laughed in return, took my hand and kissed it, and I felt as if another corner had been turned.

****************************************

We spent the rest of the day in bed, binge watching Mozart in the Jungle on my laptop. He’d told me he didn’t mind at all if I needed to work, to which I replied with a ‘fuck that shit, it can wait’. The Pedialyte stayed down, and around five PM I microwaved some chicken broth for him to try. That, as well as the two cans of Coke he guzzled down, in part, I suspected, because he was experiencing some serious caffeine withdrawals, stayed where they belonged too. After he crashed out at nine, I managed to get two Prosper client sites up and running before crawling in beside him at two AM.

Wednesday found me in bed alone, and I’d slept so soundly that I hadn’t felt him depart. I leapt up and half-jogged the eight steps into the bathroom, expecting to find him there, sick all over again…but it was empty. I padded back into the bedroom, opened the folding door and, just as I was about to freak out for the millionth time, spotted him sitting out on the deck, stuffing his face, clad only in a pair of shorts. I slipped into a robe as I walked to join him.

He grinned, chewing messily, cracker crumbs landing and sticking in his scruff. I grinned in return, taking note that his color had returned to normal and his dark circles were much improved.

“Well, someone’s feeling chipper today.”

He swallowed, then wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I’m not certain about chipper, but starving, yes.”

I moved closer, resting my left hand on the back of his neck as I inspected his feast. “Let’s see…chicken noodle soup, saltine crackers, toast – which had better be sans butter, by the way- three banana peels, and two Cokes. Gourmet breakfast if I’ve ever seen one.”

He slurped another spoonful of soup. “Lunch, actually.”

“Lunch? What time is it?”

“One or so.”

“Well, shit…sorry. Why didn’t you wake me up? Did you have breakfast? Are you okay? Any…issues?”

Motioning to the chair to his left, he snorted as I walked around the table and sat down. “No issues. All digestive system components seem to be fully functional. Breakfast was identical to lunch, and I devoured that at around six this morning. And, I didn’t wake you because I figured you might be in need of some solid rest. I’m tired still, but the ocean air seems to be doing wonders for me. I’ve just been sitting out here, watching, listening, thinking…sometimes not thinking, which is a rarity for me, but decidedly peaceful.”

It was my turn to snort. “Yeah, I think they call that ‘relaxing’. But it’s an activity I’m unfamiliar with so I can’t be, you know, SURE.” My gaze turned to the water in front of us and the mountains in the distance. “This is right here, every day, and I swear, most times I don’t even notice because I’m so busy adulting. Embarrassing. Shameful, even.”

His hand found mine, our fingers entwining. “We have today, and ahead of us five more glorious days off. Together. Let’s make a pact right now to not do a single shred of work. Sound good?”

I nodded. “It sounds fucking exceptionally good. If you see me working, stop me, and I’ll do the same. Deal?”

“Deal.” He kissed my cheek. “Thanks again for taking care of me. You…you’re just…amazing.”

“You’re welcome. It scared the crap out of me, man, how sick you were.” He chortled. “Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. Anyway. I’m just thankful you’re all right. So I did okay? I had no fucking idea what I was doing, dude.”

He kissed me again, this time on the lips, his tongue tentatively seeking entrance into my mouth. I opened to him, connecting, tasting the odd mixture of chicken broth and bananas, then forgetting about it quickly as he began gnawing on my lower lip. Our contact was severed as we came up for air, and I realized immediately that his panting wasn’t completely rooted in desire. I grasped his chin gently with my right hand, staring into his eyes.

“You okay?”

He nodded as I released him, taking another several seconds to catch his breath. “Yes. Though I’m mortified to admit I may not be quite well enough to take advantage of you at the moment. Forgive me?”

My eyes rolled. Twice. “Thomas. Please. You’re supposed to be resting. I’ll clean all this up, you go lie down.” His mouth opened, and I cut him off before he could begin. “NO. GO.”

He smiled. “All I was going to say is that I was planning on taking a shower first.”

“Oh. Fine. Carry on. If you need help, holler.”

We both stood, and he pulled me into a huge, warm embrace. “I love you, woman.”

“And I love you, man.”

“I know you just got up, but I don’t suppose you’d join me in bed again after I’m done washing?”

“Absofuckingloutely I will. I just need some fuel…the chocolate pie in the fridge should do the trick.” A sheepish half-smile from him. “Thomas. Tell me you did NOT eat the pie.”

He laughed. “I didn’t. I wanted to, but thought better of it. Though I wasn’t sure which would be worse…my stomach acting up again, or your wrath upon discovering it gone.”

I poked his shoulder. “Get off my deck, you cheeky bastard. GO.”

He let me go, turned and headed back into the cottage, moving at human speed instead of Tom speed. Every day at some point, I fell in love with him all over again. This was today’s moment, watching him walk away, feeling grateful that he was able to do so under his own power, and that he was…mine.

I’d just finished doing the miniscule amount of dishes his lunch and my breakfast had created when he came around the corner and into the kitchen, totally starkers.

“Oh my…Thomas, I had no idea there’d be a SHOW before we retire to the boudoir.” He grabbed me from behind, arms around my waist, lips on my neck. “And I’m sure our neighbors didn’t, either.”

He glanced to our left and saw that the curtains and the blinds were wide open, releasing me to go close them with a flourish. “My apologies, dearest neighbors…this show is by invitation only.”

When he turned around to face me, I was not in the least surprised to see that his cock was hard and at half-mast. I raised a brow, pointing.

“Well, I guess what they say is true…you really can’t keep a good man down.”

He blushed adorably, shrugging slightly, hands outstretched. “I thought maybe, just maybe, that if I didn’t have to move very much we could…”

“So you want me to ride you like a pony, is that it?”

At that, his cock twitched and grew fully erect. The blush deepened, turning from baby pink to nearly magenta, and I roared with laughter. “Oh my GOD you are so CUTE I can’t EVEN.” He covered his face with his hands, and I laughed louder, bent over with my hands on my thighs, my words sporadic and between chuckles. “If you…if you’re not…on that bed…in the next thirty…thirty seconds…I’m going to have to…SPANK YOU…”

Once I composed myself, I washed my hands, dropped my robe on the floor, and joined him in the bedroom, closing the folding door behind me. He was waiting, lying in the middle of the mattress, still red as a beet. I straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss him briefly as I took his cock in my left hand.

“Just lie back, relax, and enjoy, my love. If it’s too much and you need me to stop, just say so, okay?”

He nodded, and I ran the tip of him up and down my slit and against my clit a few times before sinking down onto his full length.

“God, Maude…you feel so good. So, so good. I love being inside you. I wish I could be inside you, every second of every day. Just like this, all the time. Divinity. All mine.”

I began rocking, slowly at first, upping my tempo as his moans grew louder, finally resting my hands on either side of his head, angling forward to ride him in earnest, our eyes locking.

“How’s that, baby? Am I your cowgirl? Riding my wild stallion, taming him, teaching him how to please me, how to behave?”

“Oh yes. Yes. YES. Please don’t stop.” His hips began bucking up into me, and I paused.

“Ah, ah…there will be none of that. This is MY rodeo, sunshine.”

He ceased, and I moved faster, the head of his cock pressing into my G-spot with every tilt of my hips. “That’s a good boy. You do as your cowgirl says and let her have her fun, and maybe you’ll earn yourself a treat, too. Would you like that?”

More nodding, his eyes closing as he forced himself to remain still, though I could feel the tension in his thighs, the desire to pound into me nearly overwhelming him. It pushed me over the edge, and I came, my own muscles tensing and releasing, squeezing him, pinning him in place inside me as my hips jerked wildly.

“There it is. Oh yeah. FUCK YEAH. Your cock is so fucking HARD, it feels so fucking GOOD my god OH MY GOD…”

He let himself go then, fucking up into me, thrusting no more than five times before he came as well, warm cum shooting up inside me, his head thrown back on the pillow, eyes still closed, mouth open, silent. The sight made me come again, my own eyelids falling shut, then snapping open in concern at the sound of him whimpering.

“Babe, you okay?”

His hand reached up to cup my jaw, slightly-unfocused gaze meeting mine. “I’m perfect, thank you. Sorry I came so quickly, love. It’s been since Sunday…how I am I ever going to manage when I’m in Australia and you’re in London for two weeks in January? I need you. I need to have you…”

I lifted myself off his softening cock and rolled onto my back beside him, his hand slipping off my chin in the process. “Skypesex. Lots of Skypesex.”

He shifted, turning his head toward me, and when I did the same the look on his face made me melt…the sweet, gentle smile, eyes wide open and full of light and love, blinking slowly, those damn lashes brushing his cheeks…I inhaled sharply at the beauty of it all, and his hand reached out again, this time to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I’d be remiss to not mention that I’ll miss your company most of all. Your physical presence in my sphere, your laugh, your voice, your scent…you. You’re just as much a part of me as my own heart is, and living without either is impossible.”

“Well, I was going to say it’s just two weeks, it’ll go fast and we’ll be fine but now I’m going to have to quit my job and hide in your suitcase instead.”

He grinned. “I fully support that decision.” The grin faded, countenance growing serious. “I know it will be fine, and we’ve been apart a few nights here, but we’ll be halfway across the globe from each other and I’m going to miss you, Maude. Like I’ve never missed anything else before in my life. And, I have to be honest…I’m frightened, even if it’s just a little.”

I rolled over fully and propped my head up with my arm, elbow resting on the bed. “Frightened of what?”

He rolled as well. “Distance. I’ve never been good at it. I think I’m better now, but…what if you discover that you don’t want to deal with it? Or me? What if you realize while I’m gone that you liked your life better without me in it? I…”

I kissed him, sucking his tongue into my mouth, the released him quickly. “There is NO life for me without you in it, Tom. Don’t be afraid. It’s going to suck, but we’ll handle it. Just like we’ll handle anything else that comes our way…together.”

“You’re right, Maude. I know that.” A sigh escaped him, followed by a deep inhalation. “I just have remember that past experiences are exactly that…the past. I need only focus on now, and the future. Our future.” His left hand first cupped my left breast, then worked its way down to rest on my lower belly. His gaze followed, remaining there for ten seconds, then returned to my face, his eyes questioning. “Speaking of which…I’ve been meaning to ask but you have far too much on your plate already and I don’t want to add to your stress but I guess I’m going to anyway, aren’t I? Sorry, but you singing to me Monday night, it was so like a lullaby and…” His hand began to caress me gently, and I suddenly understood what it was he wanted to discuss.

“You want to know if I’ve thought about when we should start the whole let’s-try-to-knock-up-Maude business?”

He chuckled, then sobered. “Yes. So, you have, then?”

“Oh yeah. A lot, actually. Let’s face it, I’m no spring chicken, which means time is of the essence. So, I want to say, like NOW, but…and this is going to sound utterly ridiculous because I’ve been married before, much to my horror, and in this day and age no one really gives a remote shit about such things, but I am totally not comfortable with the idea of being visibly pregnant at our wedding. I’m sorry, it’s stupid…”

He kissed me then, deeply, moving the hand that was on by belly to my backside, propelling me toward him, then pulling back to reply.

“Maude, it’s not stupid, not one single bit. It’s actually rather adorable, honestly. And hilariously contradictory and god, how I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m perfectly fine with fucking your brains out constantly but visible, tangible proof of said fucking in the form of a preggo belly? Oh, no, not THAT. I’m insane. But you knew that going in, right?” He snorted, and I pinched his nipple. “So. I’m thinking if I wait and go off the pill in February, that should do the trick.” I frowned.

“What is it?”

“Well, there’s another conversation we need to have.”

“Which is?”

I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Since I AM older, it might not be easy for me to get pregnant. I might not be able to get pregnant without fertility drugs, or other assistance. And there’s a possibility I might not be able to get pregnant at all. Or, since the only time I was pregnant I had a miscarriage, I might not be able to maintain a pregnancy. You need to be sure you’re okay with those things before we get married. I know you want a family, and if I can’t give that to you…”

He placed his hand over my mouth, gently silencing me. “You’ve been worrying about this.” I nodded, his hand remaining in place. “Don’t. Not ever again. We’re very fortunate that if things aren’t easy, we’re financially able to pursue any and all options available to us. And yes, I DO want a family…but Maude, there are all kinds of families. My gut tells me it won’t ever be necessary, but I’m open to anything, including adoption. Or, no children at all. YOU are what’s most important to me. It’s all I need in this life…everything else, it’s gravy. Like you just said…we’ll handle anything that comes our way, together. Right?”

I nodded again, and he removed his hand. His stomach gurgled, and he smiled at me. “Could I, do you think, possibly get away with having a teeny, tiny piece of that chocolate pie?”

“By get away, do you mean outrun me? Because that’s what it’s going to require, dude. PIE. MY PIE.”

He leapt up off the bed, opened the door just enough to squeeze through, then closed it behind him to slow me down. I didn’t bother to get up, shouting from the bed.

“Fucker. If you eat all that I’m never sleeping with you again.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah. I totally am. Bring my piece in here please, Sir Asshat.”

“As you wish, my love. As you wish.”


	37. Chapter 37

Thanksgiving Day was spent at Kualoa Beach Park, both of us enjoying a feast of cold turkey sandwiches, cranberries, potato chips and chocolate cannolis while sitting on oversize towels with our toes buried in the warm, glittering sand. Sunday I was granted the immense pleasure of relaxing in a beach chair as Tom learned to surf at Kualoa Point. His instructor, Mark, had short blonde hair and a ridiculously dark tan, a tribal themed tattoo around one ankle, and the words Hau‘oli (happy) and Nalu (wave or surf) around the other. Tom learned rather quickly, which wasn’t unexpected considering he was good at every other fucking thing he tried, and the sight of him in a wetsuit provided me with yet another kink I’d never known I had. He and Mark pestered me to give the board a try, even if all I did was paddle out on my stomach, but I refused on grounds that I’d seen Jaws too many times, which made Tom’s eyes widen. After the lesson was over he revealed that he’d always been terrified of sharks for the same reason, but managed to keep the fear at bay unless he was the person furthest out from shore. A joint viewing of the film followed as soon as we got back to the cottage, complete with lots of clutching, squeaking, screeching, eye covering and thigh slapping.

When Tuesday arrived, it was back to business as usual…Tom filming, me working. Time seemed to have sped up inside the chaos of our lives, and suddenly December 18th arrived, bringing with it the Skull Island wrap party. Though I’d been invited, I insisted that Tom attend on his own, and he agreed with a single contingency…that I’d be present at the wrap party after shooting in Australia was completed. He had no clue, but I’d already been in touch with Brie and Jordan about that particular matter. The finish date would be close to Tom’s birthday, and the general opinion was that a surprise party was in order.

On the morning of the 19th we checked out of the cottage and relocated to Kauai, where we were spending the weekend at ‘our’ Marriott in order to meet with Melanie Hale. I’d spoken with her on the phone several times and had booked the Paddle Room and a beachfront spot for the ceremony, but hadn’t gone over any other details. As soon as we sat down and started a guest list, Tom and I realized that there was no way in hell that everyone could fit inside Talk Story, and we didn’t want anyone to feel left out, so we begrudgingly decided to have it all in one place that offered ample room. Or at least that’s what we were going to TELL everyone. The truth was that I’d asked Roger Marshal for permission to use the store after hours and tracked down a judge willing to come out at the ungodly hour of half-past midnight on the 29th and marry us at there…just the two of us, in private, exchanging our own vows in the exact spot where we’d met. Afterward, we’d head back to the hotel and do it all over again in a few hours, the same judge presiding over our second ceremony and pretending it was the first. He volunteered that it perhaps wasn’t the most becoming conduct for someone in his position, but he was a romantic at heart and said that ‘love should always take precedence over all else’.

Our room was on the main floor this go-round, and as soon as we set our bags down inside we turned back around and walked down the hall to the check-in desk hand in hand, stopping off to the side in order to be out of the way of other guests as we waited for Melanie. I had no idea what she looked like, but I had a feeling she’d recognize Tom with no problem whatsoever. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the screen…Trudy. It was noon in Hawaii, which meant it was ten PM in London, and on a Saturday, which told me it had to be in regard to something important.

“Hey, Trudy. What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Maude, I’m so sorry, I know you’re busy and that I’m supposed to be handling all this but Mark is being a huge wanker and is now telling me there is no way they’ll have the rest of the servers up and running by January 1st and I…”

I could hear the frustration in her voice, so extreme she was near tears. “Don’t give it another thought. You keep running tests on the server they have up, and I’ll call that asshole and set him straight. Okay?”

A sigh of relief. “Thank you. You’re the best. I’m sorry, again.”

“Totally cool. I’ll text or call you later. Go have some truffles. I hide them…”

She snorted. “I know where you hide them. How do you think I’ve been able to get all this done?”

We both laughed, I hit end call and searched for SecureServe in my contacts. Tom kissed my forehead as I hit call and then speaker, walking further towards the wall away from the desk. Mark picked up on the first ring.

“Maude, I know what you’re going to say but I…”

My ‘this bitch will cut you’ voice was in full effect. “Mark. Did you tell Trudy that you wouldn’t be able to have all the servers up in time for our launch?”

“Yes, because it’s just not possible…”

“And why is it not possible?”

“She didn’t get all the specs to me in time, I didn’t have the proper security settings and they’re SO strict and I need time to…”

“So you’re saying Trudy didn’t send you the specifications you needed?”

“Yes, exactly, it’s entirely her fault for not making me aware…”

“Mark, I want you to pause for a moment and really, really think about what you just said. Okay? Here.” I waited for five seconds. “Do you want to change anything? Last chance.”

“Change what? This is all on her…”

I looked back at Tom, rolled my eyes, then turned around and moved again, nearing ever closer to the wall. “Mark. All of the specifications for the project, including all of the security settings, down to the minutest detail, as in TO THE HUNDREDTH OF A DECIMAL POINT WHERE APPLICABLE DETAIL, were part of the contract you signed at the beginning of October. You initialed every pertinent paragraph. You signed the bottom of every page. Remember that? The contract? The one you signed? The one that very clearly states that if you breach it in any way or are unable to complete the project by January 1st 2016 you are liable for the funds you’ve been advanced as well as any damages incurred by my company as a result? DO YOU REMEMBER THAT CONTRACT? And, now you’re in a time crunch and you’re going to whine and point the blame at the person who’s done a good portion of your own work for you?”

There was nothing but silence on the line.

“And do you ALSO remember the clause that you initialed stating that if, at any time during the final 30 days of the contract, we weren’t satisfied with your performance or had a firm indication that you wouldn’t be able to complete the project by the deadline that we were free to terminate your ass and have the advance refunded to us? Probably not, right? Well, you’ll have lots of time to look it all over now. Because you’ve provided that firm indication and now you. Are. FIRED. I’ll be expecting payment in full within seven business days. If it’s not received, you’ll be hearing from my attorney.”

I hit end call, wondering if steam was pouring out of my ears, took a deep breath and turned around…to see Tom standing four feet away with a lovely woman, blonde hair braided and twisted around her head, clad in a white floral-print tank dress, standing next to him. She was short, only five four or so, and her blue eyes were wide as she stared at me, speechless. Tom was grinning widely as he cleared his throat.

“Melanie, allow me to introduce you to Maude…”

I strode over, hand extended. “Well, I’m guessing you heard a good bit of that...please don’t be frightened. I promise not to go all Bridezilla on you. Really. I’m a relatively nice person. Most of the time. Probably. Anyway, lovely to finally meet you!”

She took my hand, shaking lightly, then letting go. “It’s lovely to meet you as well.” He voice was high, and slightly nasal. “If you need to reschedule…”

I shook my head. “Thank you, but it’s fine. That’s a multiple alarm fire…like six, maybe? I’d like to get the single-alarm one put out first, if that’s okay with you.”

Tom snorted. “Did you just compare planning our wedding to fighting a fire?”

Turning toward him, I patted his bicep, which was bulging against his white T-shirt. “Yes. Yes I did. Which probably made it totally obvious that I’m a nervous wreck about the whole shebang. Damn.”

He grabbed me, pulled me to his chest and planted a kiss on the top of my head. “You’re perfect and amazing, so by default the wedding will also be perfect and amazing…”

I wriggled away quickly, blushing in spite of my attempt at resistance. “Dude. Stop. Seriously.”

He roared, his laugh making people turn and gawk. When I turned my gaze to Melanie she was smirking, and decidedly more relaxed, lifting her hand and extending it toward the hallway on our right. “Shall we begin?”

Sighing, I shook my head again, feeling Tom’s fingers entwine with mine. “Sure thing. Pass me the extinguisher and let’s roll.”

****************************************  
The Paddle Room was 3,150 square feet of open space, walls a muted deep yellow with native wood beams crossing the gable-style ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the pool side of the space, with an exit door a third of the way in from the main entrance, allowing guests to move freely between both areas. The outdoor pool and patio added an extra 2,600 square feet, which we hoped would ease any congestion during the party hard and wander around phase of the reception. The Paddle Room was only designed to hold 230 guests, and we were pretty sure we might top that. Not because of my people, of course. Those I could count on the fingers of both hands. But Tom…that was an entirely different story, and by this point I’d either spoken to or corresponded with a good bunch of them so they were quickly becoming my people too, which was strangely, dare I say, delightful. Once they were all in a room together I wasn’t sure that feeling would remain, but there would likely be a bathroom for me to hide in somewhere nearby until someone wondered where the bride had gotten off to and hunted me down.

Two tables had been set up in the center of the room, one round eight-top and one rectangular ten-top. The rectangular was a simple but sturdy-looking folding table, left bare, and the round was likely the same, but had been covered with a dark green base cloth, white topper, with dark green dishware atop silver chargers, dark green napkins, silver flatware, and silver vases with white roses in the center and a dark green ribbon tied in a bow around the center of the container. Melanie motioned to the rectangular table, upon which rested a laptop and several large binders.

“Is it all right if we sit and talk here? If you’d rather go somewhere more private, that’s fine…”

I turned to Tom to discuss his preference, only to find him pulling out chairs for Melanie and me. I sat, chuckling as he pushed me in.

“Looks like we’re good here, Melanie.”

She sat in the chair he’d pulled out across the table from me, and Tom came back around and folded himself into the seat on my right. I rooted in my bag for my tablet, where I’d stored all my notes to date.

“Okay, Maude and Tom. First things first…does this space meet your needs? Does it feel like the place you’d like to celebrate your union?”

Tom snorted, and I kicked him under the table. “If you think it’s large enough, I’m good.” I patted Tom’s hand. “You?”

He nodded. “I’m fine with celebrating our union anywhere, actually.”

It took all I had to not roll my eyes, hoping Melanie wouldn’t pick up on our inside joke. She was smirking again, and cleared her throat before proceeding.

“I believe it will accommodate your guests comfortably, as well as allow plenty of room for a dance floor and so forth. If you’re planning on a live band, we may want to use the rectangular tables, though.”

Tom held up a hand. “We’ve decided to opt for a DJ, and possibly karaoke, if that’s permissible.”

Melanie made a note on her pink legal pad. “Excellent, that’s certainly a space saver. Will you be bringing someone in?”

I shook my head. “Actually, we were hoping Sammy would be available that night.”

Her eyes grew wide again, mouth falling open, then closing quickly. “Wow. Really? That’s…that’s…wow. I’m not even going to check with him…he’s going to be available for this. Thank you. He’ll be over the moon, and karaoke is definitely allowed. Wow. Okay. Where were we? Right. So, when you booked this space, I took the liberty of reserving 100 guest rooms from the 26th through the 30th, just in case you found it easier for most to stay on the premises. I’ve also had our reservation specialists inform everyone booking for your week that the pool will be closed on the 29th, in order to provide you with maximum privacy. Speaking of which, we do have hotel security available but your own and that of your guests are welcome. We can coordinate a plan if need be, and I assure you we’ll do our best to keep the paparazzi off site. They may camp out down the beach, and we can’t control helicopters…”

Tom interrupted her. “No worries, Melanie, but thank you. I honestly can’t think of any guests that will arrive with anything more than a nanny or two in tow. And as far as the media is concerned, we don’t mind at all as long as they keep their distance. Maude’s taught me well…they’ll get their shots no matter what, and making it more difficult for them only makes things less pleasant for all involved. We’d rather just focus on enjoying the day, our guests, and each other.”

I grinned. “I almost have nothing else to add.” Tom laughed. “We’re not advertising the date publicly, but we’re aware that it will probably leak, and that’s just the deal. If we have any fans trying to crash, we’ll just give them some cake or something. But I don’t think it will be an issue, honestly. Tom’s fans are, so far as I’ve noticed, very respectful. And, we’re going to let everyone know that we’ll be posting pics and videos all over social media, so they’ll feel like they won’t be missing out. Except on the cake.”

Melanie laughed. “So you’ve chosen a cake already?”

My jaw dropped this time. “Oh god, no. I haven’t. Nope. I thought I was ahead of the game because we picked out a color scheme. Sorry…I’m like, totally new to this. The only reason I knew I needed a color scheme is because I’m maid of honor for our friends’ wedding at the end of the month and, wow, you want to see a Bridezilla you should meet Simon…”

She pushed an open binder across the table to us. “I assumed you’d already hired a wedding planner and just wanted to use the venue here…and you’re welcome to do that, but we do offer full service packages. Soup to nuts, everything included. Food, flowers, marriage license, all of it, if you’re interested.”

My head spun to the right, and Tom was staring back at me. I raised a brow, and he smiled. I turned back to Melanie. “Oh my GOD am I interested. Yes, please. Where do we sign?” 

We went over all the paperwork, and I tried to not flinch at the initial total, which was more than I’d ever thought I’d spend on a single day, and all the custom stuff wasn’t even factored in yet. Two hundred thousand dollars, which, though it included all the guest rooms and meals for the duration of their stay, the planning of the event itself, a bachelor and bachelorette party if we wanted them and the rehearsal dinner, seemed over the top expensive to extremely frugal me. 

I bit my lip and looked up at Melanie. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes to look this over, please?”

She nodded and rose from her chair. “Of course not. Take your time. Just text me when you’re ready. I’m going to go admire the pool.” She smiled, and headed outdoors.

Tom twisted himself around in his seat, slipping his arm around me, concern in his eyes. “Tell me what’s on your mind, love.”

I remained silent for a few moments, blinking, then rested my hand on his knee. “Dude, this is, like, a FORTUNE. And we haven’t done food or flowers or cake or dresses or décor yet…is this, like, typical? Are you okay with us spending this much money? We never talked about it and I just…”

His left brow rose, and I could tell he was carefully considering his choice of words. “Well, neither of us has done this sort of thing before, so I’m not sure if it’s typical…but then again, we’re a bit outside the norm as far as financial stability is concerned so perhaps typical isn’t applicable. That being said, I don’t care if it’s a thousand dollars or a million dollars, Maude. All that matters to me is taking our vows and exchanging rings and having you as my wife. But I do feel like it’s an occasion to celebrate heartily, because…”

He’d begun to tear up, brushing a knuckle under one eye in an attempt to contain the moisture. I stood and embraced him, holding his head to my chest. “Thank you. Nothing like a little perspective to clarify everything. I agree, we should make it exactly what we want. Buuuttt…is it cool if I call Simon and see if he’ll dish on how much they’re spending? Not necessary, but man, I am SO cheap…”

A laugh rumbled forth from him, tickling my ribs. “There are simply things that demand splurging. Even penny-pincher me knows that.”

“Yes, but you splurge on things like five-hundred dollar shoes and then wear them over and over until they fall apart, so that kind of makes sense…”

He released me and stood. “True. But, please do call Simon because curiosity has gotten the better of me…”

I snorted as I pulled my phone from my pocket, located Simon in my contacts and pressed call. “Shocking. And shit, it’s late there…but it’s Saturday, so they should still be up.”

He answered on the second ring. “You had best not be calling me to announce a delay in your return, Maude Gallagher, because I AM LOSING MY SHIT LIKE NEVER BEFORE AND I NEED YOU HERE.”

“Jesus. Have some wine or something. Where’s Luke? Hiding in the office again?”

“I HAD WINE. LUKE HAD WINE. WE HAD WINE. IT IS NOT HELPING. Christ. Sorry. This wedding insanity…you guys should totally elope. Really. Elope. SAVE YOURSELVES.”

“Hey, thanks for the warning, but we’re meeting with the wedding planner, like, right now, so day late, dollar short and all that. Which is why I’m calling, actually…she just gave us a price and I have serious sticker shock and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind divulging how much you’ve spent. For comparative purposes.”

“Maude, you can’t really compare the two because you’re having a big fancy destination wedding and we’re just getting hitched here in London and aren’t paying for guest lodging, but so far, in US dollars, two hundred.”

“As in…two hundred thousand?” 

He noted the incredulity in my voice. “Yes. Reserving the space alone for New Year’s Eve was eighty thousand. So, I think we’ve done pretty well…how much were you quoted? A million? Two?”

“Um, no. Base price is same as yours.”

“What?! Are you fucking kidding me? That’s just for the space, right? Not with rooms?”

“No. That includes rooms. For four nights and three days.”

“Well, now I feel like I got royally fucked. Thanks. Some maid of honor YOU are.” He laughed. “Actually, I think we got a good deal. It’s New Year’s Eve so everything is pricey, and I know I overspent on a bunch of things, but this is an end all be all we’re only doing this one time event, so…but you, YOU are getting the BEST deal. Really. I’m going to go have more wine now, though. LOTS. OF. WINE. See you on Monday?”

“Yep. We should be home by around 9 PM, London time.”

“Good. I miss you, you bitch. The office is tres boring without you, and I’m finding the lack of snark to be DEEPLY disturbing. Good luck with everything. Love you. Tell the beautiful asshat I love him too.”

“Will do. Love you too. Give Luke a smooch from both of us.”

“I’m planning on giving him MANY smooches…”

“Okay then. Bye!”

I hit end call, and Tom held up his left hand, palm out. “No need to repeat any of it…I heard everything even with him OFF speaker.”

“Loud, drunken Simon is loud. And drunk.”

He embraced me again, meeting my gaze. “Feel better?”

“Yeah. One more thing before I text Melanie, though…are you okay with using a wedding planner? Like, you’re not disappointed that I’m not handling everything?”

“You’re joking.”

“Uh, no. You’re filming until spring and have no time for this, so it should be my responsibility and I’m pawning it off on someone else and it’s…”

“Maude. Shush. You’re working just as hard as I am, if not harder. And you just lost your server…thing…so now you have that to deal with and I’m THRILLED you want to use a wedding planner. I wanted to suggest giving it a try but…”

“But your fiancée is a total control freak and you didn’t want to piss her off?”

He chortled. “More like offend, but yes. That.”

“Probably a good call, my man. I’ll text Melanie. And, thank you. To be honest, I feel like this huge burden has been lifted from my shoulders and maybe I’ll actually enjoy the process now, though part of me is still all YOU FAIL AT LIFE, MAUDE…”

He kissed me, tongue caressing my lips before sliding inside my mouth, the retreating quickly, a huge grin spread across his gorgeous face. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

My head moved slowly from side to side. “Nope. Nothing. Texting now.”

Melanie rejoined us almost immediately, and though she did a rather excellent job of trying to mask her feelings, I could see the change in her demeanor and realized she thought we’d changed our minds. I sat back down at the table without saying a word, Tom followed, and we began signing all the required documents before she reached her own chair. When I finished the last one, I looked up at her, smiling.

“Okay, Melanie. The Gallagher-Hiddleston wedding is officially your fire now.”

She laughed loudly, then sobered. “Before we discuss your color scheme, which I’d like to do now if you have the time, I just want you both to know that I will do everything humanly possible to make your day perfect for you. My goal is to ensure that the process is as stress free as possible for you both, so you can focus on feeling nothing but happiness and joy. I’m so blessed and honored that you’ve entrusted me with your wedding celebration…it means…it’s just amazing. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

I hadn’t thought until that moment about the fact that one, she was a longtime fan of Tom and his work and two, a large ‘celebrity’ wedding could have enough of an impact on her career that she could break off from the hotel and work on her own, if she wished. Life is so strange that way…you’re just moving along and BOOM. The boom can be bad, or it can be good…I hoped this one would turn out to be nothing but good for her. And then I realized that I could do more than hope.

“Melanie, I don’t know if the hotel allows you to promote yourself, and even if you have to include them, but I’d like to make sure you’re given full credit for the work you do for us. Publicly.”

Tom reached under the table to grab hold of my hand, and Melanie blushed a very deep red, clearly flustered as she began to speak again.

“That…that would be…thank you. I can’t tell you how much I’d appreciate that, or how much it means to me. This isn’t the first celebrity wedding for me, but…it’s incredibly special, because, Tom…your work has brought me so much joy and I’ve met some great people online who feel the same way, and a few have become very close friends. Even if I can give a little of that back…well…”

He stood, walked around the table, and bent to hug her, the rose to his full height again after letting her go. “Melanie, thank you for your kind words. One of the best things about doing what I do is hearing that it brings people joy. That’s just…everything. An actor is nothing without an audience for the work. Again, thank you.”

He came back around to sit next to me again, and I was afraid the poor woman was going to pass out. The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile, she took a deep breath, placed her hands palm down on the table, then continued.

“Well, I’m not even going to pretend I’ve recovered from that, so instead I’m going to look at this as if it’s my chance to illustrate my ability to retain my professionalism under any circumstances. So, Maude…your color scheme, then?”

We all laughed, and I pulled it up on my tablet. “We’re going with white, a light neon-esque green, medium lilac-y purple and silver.” 

She examined it, nodding, then looked up at me. “The bridesmaids…which color have you chosen for their dresses?”

Pondering, I pictured Simon in a suit of everything but white. “The purple.”

“Okay, good. Men in black tuxes?”

“Yes. With purple vests and silver pocket squares. And orchid boutonnieres. The flower, not the color. Well, they ARE sort of that color, the purple orchids I found online…”

She chuckled. “See, you’ve got much more than a color scheme done.”

My eyes rose skyward briefly. “You’re right. I do. I can see what I want the room to look like, actually.”

Pen in hand poised over the pink pad, she grinned. “Give me the details and I’ll make it happen.”

I turned to Tom, who was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “If you don’t like something or want something different, feel free to chime in.” He kissed my cheek and I continued. “Round tables are a must. Silver fabric as the base cloth…and a subtle, satiny silver, not lame. On top of that white cloth, with a purple square in the center of that.” The round table next to us had three different chairs, one oval backed and padded with a metal frame, a bamboo-ish styled rectangular style, and another which I assumed to be the oval type but slip-covered. “Purple slip-covers tied back with green fabric. No bows, please. The bridal party table will have to be different, though, so let’s do a white base cloth, silver on top, green center square, and green slip-covers tied back with purple.”

“Maude, that’s…I love it. The bridal party table…do you want that round or rectangular, with all of you on one side?”

Tom cleared his throat. “I’d like to be able to chat easily, though I can’t imagine we’ll be sitting down for very long.” He rested a hand on my shoulder and I swiveled to meet his gaze. “Is round all right with you?”

I nodded. “That was my first choice. So, yep.”

Melanie scribbled for a few more seconds. “Excellent. How about centerpieces?”

Shrugging, I raised both hands, palms up. “I don’t really want it to be flowergeddon, and I want at least one thing other than the location to be kind of tropical so I was thinking…orchids there too? I saw some really cool LED light containers online with orchids inside the cylinder, and I love them, but it feels like one alone on a table wouldn’t cut it. I haven’t been able to come up with anything else…”

Tom’s hand slammed down on the table, scaring the living shit out of both me and Melanie. He snickered. “Sorry about that. I’ve got an idea…since we met at Talk Story how about books as a component of the centerpiece? Maybe a circle of them around the LED cylinders, and that would have to be elevated a bit, and we’d put them spine out…”

I slapped his bicep. “Oh my god, that is fucking GENIUS right there. I love it. High five, babe.” As he granted my request, I realized I’d said fuck. “Whoops, sorry, Melanie.”

“No worries. Feel free to be yourselves around me, both of you. I’ve been known to swear like a sailor myself…”

I snorted. “You and I are going to get along just fine then. Just. Fine.”

We all laughed, then decided upon silver flatware, silver chargers, white plates with a silver art-deco pattern along the edges, and napkins to match the seat covers. Glassware would be simple with no embellishments. Melanie finished her notes, then rose from her chair. We followed suit.

“Well, that was some excellent progress. And Maude, going forward, all you need to do is phone or email with ideas, options or changes and I’ll take care of everything. Whatever you need, I’ll handle it and make sure it’s done on time and done right. So relax, focus on the fun parts, and let me do the work. The fire, as far as you’re concerned, is OUT. All right?”

Though not typically in the habit of hugging strangers, I felt compelled to give her a quick squeeze. “Thank you, Melanie. I appreciate you taking this on. So much.”

“You’re welcome. One more thing before you go, though…I have you booked for beachfront, but did you want the ceremony right on the sand or just above the beach overlooking it and the ocean? Let’s take a little walk so you have a better perspective.”

We descended to the water’s edge, stood in the sand, and Tom and I stared at each other, the ocean roaring in our ears. If our actual ceremony wasn’t being held at Talk Story, we both would have wanted it to be right there, barefoot, our toes in the sand. But since it WAS taking place elsewhere and this one would be just for show, we figured it would be more comfortable for all our guests if we set up shop on the lawn overlooking the water. The grass was perfectly green, the view spectacular, and there would be no worries about sand in shoes or…wherever. An arbor would be set up cliff side, draped in our colors with orchids on each post, and the guests would sit in white wooden folding chairs, facing the arbor and ocean. Melanie had shown us file footage, and I could picture it all, me walking to Tom past the crowd, and I panicked briefly, but was then overwhelmed by happiness when I paused to consider that HOLY FUCK WE WERE GETTING MARRIED. I grabbed Tom by the T-shirt.

“I’m so busy that I forget that this is happening, you know? Like, dude, we’re getting MARRIED.”

He laughed gleefully, pulled me to his chest, then picked me up and spun me around. “I KNOW! I’m uncontrollably EXCITED!”

“Really? You? Excited? Get me a blanket because I think I’m in SHOCK.”

As he set me down I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Melanie had her phone up and pointed towards us. 

“Sorry, you two…didn’t mean to intrude…I was getting ready to ask if I could snap a quick picture for the files and then…THAT happened. I’ll email it to you.”

Tom ran over to hug her. “Thank you, for all of this. Again. And for capturing that moment.” He released her, then waved me over, standing in the middle, slipping his left arm around my waist and snatching Melanie’s phone with his right hand, extending that arm way, way out. The man was built for taking selfies. “Here, let’s all be in it.”

Five shots later we said our goodbyes, then headed back to our room to change. A few more hours on the beach, dinner, sleep, and then it was off to the airport to begin our journey, Hawaii to LA then on to London. Home.


	38. Chapter 38

Caught up in all things wedding related, both for my own and Simon’s, as well as enjoying a bit of free time with mister Super Sexy wandering around naked constantly in every hotel room, I’d completely forgotten about my six alarm blaze. And Trudy. There wasn’t much I could do about it while we were in the air because of the time difference, and when confronted with the choice of pulling out my laptop and trying to find out how I was going to manage to procure and set up the servers we needed on my own or snuggling with Tom and taking a nap, the snuggling won out easily.  
I woke up when we were circling Heathrow, groaning as I realized that I was royally fucked as far as a normal human-like sleep schedule was concerned. We grabbed our luggage and took a cab back to our flat, and Tom had barely gotten the key in the door when Simon came bounding out onto the landing and nearly tackled me to the floor with a ridiculously powerful bear hug.  
“MAUDE, MAUDE, MAUDE! You’re home, you’re home!”  
A small squeak emanated from my mouth when I opened it, and I struggled to speak. “DUDE. I love you, but you are crushing the fucking life out of me.”  
He loosened his grip, kissed me on both cheeks, then waved at Tom, who knew it was in his best interest to get into our flat as quickly as possible lest he be caught up in the insanity.   
“No, no, you must LIVE, woman. LIVE! I need you! NEED. YOU.”  
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. I am aware. You need me. What time is it, like, six?”  
He nodded. “Something like that. So, did you sleep on the plane? Can we chat? Hmm?”  
“I did, in fact, sleep on the plane. But, I really, really need to talk to Trudy ASAP…so can we chat tomorrow instead?”  
An eyeroll, followed by a heavy sigh. “Really? Trudy? What could be so…”  
“SecureServe dropped the fucking ball, man.”  
He gasped. “What do you mean they dropped the ball?”  
It was my turn to sigh. “They can’t get the servers done by the first.”  
I was released completely as his hands lifted up and came to rest upon his cheeks like the kid in Home Alone. “GET THE FUCK OUT! Did you kill the guy?”  
“Not yet. I fired him, though.”  
Simon’s head pulled back like a turtle’s. “Excuse me, WHAT?”  
“I fired him.”  
He wagged his finger at me. “Trudy does not know this.”  
I bit my lower lip and nodded. “Nope.”  
“Oh, honey…you’d best get your ass down those stairs and tell the girl.” He frowned. “So what are you going to, you know, DO? Delay the launch?”  
“Fuck no. We’re going to set up the servers ourselves. Speaking of which…I need your office.”  
One hand flew to his hip. “And where am I supposed to work?”  
I snorted. “Well, first of all…you working? Reading Tumblr and gossip blogs with a two hour lunch break in between doesn’t really count as work. But, in spite of that, I am willing to turn over my own office to you. I can do my thing anywhere.”  
“HA! That’s exactly what Tom tells us!”  
“Yeah, well…truth. So. Trudy’s still here, then?”  
He nodded. “She’s here until at least ten every night. Sometimes much later if she’s ‘in the zone’ as she calls it. Says her flatmate is distracting when she’s trying to work at home.”  
“All righty then. You go back in your cage now, Bridezilla. I’ll see you tomorrow. We can chat over that two hour lunch break.”  
“Actually, I’m taking the entire day off and so are YOU, so THERE. Note that I am not disputing the Bridezilla label.”  
“Noted. Now you note that I am officially terrified to be your maid of honor.”  
“Duly noted and recorded.” He kissed the top of my head. “See you tomorrow, love. Good to have you home.”  
“Good to be here. Go have wine. Have some wine for me. Have a LOT of wine for me…”  
He laughed. “I think something harder is in order…”  
“I’m sure you do.”  
The laugh turned into a cackle as he headed back to his flat, closing the door he’d left open in his rush to greet me behind him.  
I poked my head into my own flat, calling out to Tom.  
“Babe? Where you at?”  
He came bounding down the steps.  
“Hey. What would you like for dinner?”  
My face scrunched up. “Well, actually…”  
“I know. You need to go speak with Trudy. But you still require sustenance…may I bring you both something?”  
I kissed him quickly. “You may, good sir. Thanks. You’re fucking awesome.”  
He grinned. “But am I awesome at fucking?”  
“Methinks you know the answer to THAT already.”  
“I do, I do. What would you like me to order?”  
“Surprise me? Wait. Chinese? Pizza? Shit. Surprise me. Yeah.”  
“Will do, my love.”  
We embraced, and I turned, walked out the door and down to the office to deliver the news.  
****************************************  
I found Trudy in the upstairs conference room, the table nearly covered with papers, her hair up in a tightly wound bun as she chewed on her pen while staring at her laptop screen. She looked up at the sound of my footsteps, grinning, then put the pen down before speaking.  
“You fired Mark.”  
My head tilted to the side. “Um, well…yes. Yes I did. And you knew that how?”  
“I lost access to the server about twenty minutes after I called you.”  
“Well, shit…I hadn’t considered that aspect. Sorry. I absolutely should have let you know…”  
Eyes back on the screen, she waved a hand in my general direction, the other resting on her mouse as she scrolled quickly. “No worries. Don’t give it another thought. I’m delighted that you fired him…he was a humongous tit. So, we’re doing this on our own, yeah?”  
“That was the plan.”  
“Good to know that picking out everything I think we need wasn’t a waste of time, then. I based it all on their server specs, then…found better stuff.”  
I walked around to look at her screen. “Okay, rack servers instead of towers…that will save a ton of space. Dual Intel Xeon E7 processors, Windows Server OS, 128GB RAM, 2.4TB SAS hard drive…holy shit does that say sixteen GRAND? I think I need to sit down.” I flopped in the chair next to her.  
“Maude, we can probably still find someone who can get it done in time.…”  
I shook my head. “You and I both know that we’ll never be happy with someone else’s work. And we both also KNOW we’ll get everything done in time. So we need, what? Eight to start?”  
“Eight to start would give us enough room to host about four thousand accounts, based on our calculations. Not future proof by any means, but it should do.” She began chewing on her pen again.  
I nodded. “And we’ll also need all the cables, UPS backups, rack cabinets…and we’ll have to install security devices on Simon’s office, a door keypad or keycard, as well as tamper alarms on the servers themselves in order to meet industry standards. Not too worried about that, nor outside intrusion from hackers, because if they can get in after I’ve locked it all down I’ll be calling them to see if they want a fucking job.”  
The pen dropped to the table. “Simon’s office?”  
“Yeah. We’re swapping. That’s really the best spot for them, climate-wise and everything. And there’s room for both of us. I don’t actually NEED an office, I can set up shop anywhere when I need to meet someone face-to-face. Oh, and the network will have to be completely, totally separate from the Prosper one, and I’ll want our own T1 lines as soon as we can get them…”  
Trudy chuckled. “So I should place the order, then?”  
I leaned forward to rest my elbows on the table and cover my eyes with my hands. “Actually, I’m going to have to use Tom’s Amex for this one because my cards actually have limits. Let me text him…oh, he’s bringing us food. Forgot to mention that.”  
“Good. I could eat, you know? What’s on the menu?”  
I sat up and pulled out my phone. “No clue. Told him to surprise me.”  
“I’m willing to wager he brings pizza.”  
“Sadly, Trudy, I’m afraid I am not in a financial position to wager due to our imminent expenditure.”  
She reached out and poked my shoulder. “You know quite well you’ll make that back in a very short time.”  
“HA! Do I? I do not. But I hope so, because we’re on the hook for almost twice the server cost for the wedding. I think I need a cocktail.”  
“And Mark will be sending you back the fifty thousand, so that will help, won’t it?”  
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not counting on that happening. Like, at all. EVER. No idea how it works over here, really, but in the US it can take forever to even get a lien against someone who doesn’t pay what they owe. But I’m still going to sue the fucker…”  
Trudy laughed. “I wouldn’t have even considered thinking otherwise, Maude.”  
I typed quickly, then slowed down because I kept screwing up so badly and backspacing took up even MORE time than going at my normal rate.   
Hey babe…could you maybe saunter that gorgeous ass down here? I miss you. – M  
And also…I kinda sorta maybe totally need to use your Amex card again. – M  
Sorry.  I’ll do an EFT to your account from mine tonight. – M  
Not even ten seconds later my phone dinged.  
I’ll be right down. The pizza should be here soon anyway. And please don’t be sorry. – T  
And also…do you happen to have any cash on you? :P – T  
I snorted quietly.   
Yes. Small amounts of legal tender…that I DO have. :P – M  
I turned to Trudy as I got up in order to go meet him at the front of the office. “Glad I didn’t bet. It’s pizza.”  
Her right arm shot up in the air, hand in a tightly balled fist. “YES! Pizza!” She rose from her seat. “I’ll go down and get some plates and drinks.”  
“Cool. Thank you.”  
I walked out of the conference room, reaching the main door just as Tom appeared. He peeked behind me, saw we were alone, then grabbed me by my ass cheeks, pressed me into his crotch and rammed his tongue into my mouth. An indeterminable amount of time passed as we dry humped furiously, the building door buzzer startling us out of our thoroughly inappropriate behavior. Both of us were panting, Tom’s words uneven, his voice deepened into fuck mode.  
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go pay the delivery person, would you?”  
My gaze travelled to his groin, the outline of his cock clearly visible as it strained against his jeans.  
I ran my finger along his fly. “Well, clearly you aren’t up for THAT at the moment, so sure, I’ll handle it. The pizza, I mean.” Licking my lips suggestively, I squeezed gently. “THIS I’ll handle LATER.”  
His jaw shifted to one side. “Maaauuuuudddeeee…”  
Shrugging, I began to saunter away from him. “Don’t you Maude me, mister. YOU started this.”  
He groaned, and I shifted my jeans around once I was out of his line of sight, sighing with relief when the seam was no longer digging into my crotch. The pizza delivery person was a red-headed freckled fellow, to whom I handed the equivalent of sixty dollars or so, grabbed the two pies and closed the door with a hasty but pleasant ‘have a great night!’.  
Tom was nowhere to be seen when I walked back in, so I traversed to the conference room with the delectable scent of pizza infiltrating my nostrils, and for one brief shining moment I considered locking myself in my office with both and seeing how much I could put away before anyone noticed. Then I remembered it was no longer my office, technically, and THEN I remembered that I had a server order to place and if I deprived Trudy of pizza she might turn against me and that would NOT help my cause at all.  
He was seated at the table, while Trudy stood, attempting to organize the scattered paperwork into piles to make room for dinner. When Tom didn’t stand to help me, I knew he’d bolted in there and sat down before Trudy had come back upstairs, and that he was still raring to go. I tittered to myself, but apparently not quietly enough.  
Trudy looked up from her most recently formed stack. “Something funny, Maude?”  
I placed the pizzas on the table. “Everything’s funny when you’ve spent your day on a Transatlantic flight and are starving and about to spend an insane amount of money on things that will take up a shitload of time you don’t really have in spite of the fact that you already paid someone else to do it for you.” I opened one box, saw that it was plain cheese, ripped it from its companions and took a huge bite. My words were garbled as I spoke and chewed at the same time. “MMMMM, that’s better.”  
I grabbed a Coke, a plate and some napkins before flopping into the chair next to Tom. He reached past me to retrieve his own slice, opting for the garbage pie, downing it in five bites, then got his own plate and soda, belching loudly after his first giant draught.  
“Goodness, excuse me.”  
“Dude, there’s no excuse FOR you.”  
He stuck his tongue out at me and snagged another slice for himself and one for me as well. Trudy munched contentedly on her own garbage slice, and we continued in relative silence until both pies were consumed. After we cleaned and washed up, I walked Tom to the reception area. He handed me his Amex…the Centurion Card, also known as the Amex Black Card. Made from anodized titanium, which gave it its coloring, the card number, expiration date and account holder name were laser etched into the metal.   
I sighed as I took it from him. “Thanks, babe. Again, sorry.”  
He said nothing, and I tilted my head as Tom not replying to an apology was, to date, unheard of. I waited for ten seconds, then righted my head and cocked an eyebrow. He looked down at my hand, the one holding the card, then back up at me, his own brows raised. I shook my head.  
“Thomas. I have no clue what you’re getting at here, and your silence is quite disturbing. So why…”  
He pulled his wallet from his pocket again, opened it, and removed another AMEX card, holding it towards me so I could clearly see his name displayed on the front.  
“Why do you have two cards? Have you always had two cards? Do you have two accounts or…”  
He chortled. “Maude. Look at the one you’re holding.”  
I gazed downward, and instead of seeing ‘Tom Hiddleston’, I saw ‘Maude Gallagher’. My eyes shot up to meet his, my voice rather toneless when I spoke. “This card has my name on it.”  
Nodding as he put his wallet away, he smiled at me sheepishly. “I added you as an authorized cardholder. Hope that’s all right…I know we never really discussed it, but I figured you having your own would be helpful, especially if I’m off filming and you need something for the wedding or anything else that exceeds the limit on your other cards. That made me sound like a bit of a pompous asshole, didn’t it? Sorry.”  
I shook my head. “No it doesn’t. My cards have limits. Fact. I just said that to Trudy before we ate, actually. Also fact, you are just so thoughtful and helpful and thank you for this, so much. I’ll keep track of what I spend and reimburse you each month, okay?”  
His hand reached out and came to rest on my shoulder. “Actually, I think that’s something else we should talk about.”   
“If you mean talking about me not paying you back then I’m going to have to pass, m’kay?” It was something I’d been avoiding, the ‘money talk’. So far I’d insisted on paying my own way, and I didn’t feel comfortable with that changing. He’d been accepting for the most part, but on the plane ride home when I mentioned paying for half of the wedding expenses he’d only managed to utter a terse ‘absolutely not’ and as I balked his jaw tensed, so I let it go.   
“Maude. We’re getting married. Husbands and wives typically merge at least some of their finances, do they not? And even if…anyway, how other people handle it doesn’t matter to me. It’s what I’d like to happen, but you may feel differently. Which is precisely why we should have a conversation about it, during which I will persuade you to accept my proposition.”  
I said nothing, and he stared at me pointedly until I gave in, sighing, and a smile turned the corners of his mouth upward as I spoke.  
“Fine. But we need to have it like, now or I’m going to stick my head back in the sand and pretend this never happened.” He laughed, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “So. I’m going to go spend a shit load of money, then I’ll meet you upstairs and you can have your way with me. Verbally. Something. Okay. Yes.”  
He embraced me briefly, then whispered in my ear as he released me. “And after? Physically?”  
I rolled my eyes. “Shush. Go. Away with you.”  
His normal strut was greatly exaggerated as he walked out the door, and I groaned, shaking my head as I went back to the conference room. Twenty minutes and one phone call later, the servers and all the other components we needed were ordered and set to arrive on Wednesday, early AM. Which happened to be the day before Christmas Eve, and I kept my freak out over losing two days that I should be spending getting everything ready to a holiday under control until I headed upstairs, repeating ‘it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s all fine’ to myself but not believing a single syllable.  
Tom had left the door open, and when I stepped inside he was sitting at the dining table, his laptop open and a stack of folders behind it.   
“Hey, you. Everything ordered?”  
“Yep. Delivery Wednesday morning, and hopefully we’ll get them unpacked, in place and perhaps up and running then because I won’t have any time to work on them until we get back from your mom’s on Saturday. Hopefully I can attend to all Simon’s needs tomorrow and then…” Luke’s voice from behind me made me nearly jump out of my skin. I spun around to see him standing right behind me in the still-open doorway, a half-smile raising the right corner of his mouth.  
“Oh, good. You’re here. I just wanted to tell you that there is no way I’m allowing you to give up your office. I’m going to rearrange mine so Simon can share it with me, and you can use his space for whatever you need, plus it can serve as Trudy’s office as well.”  
I crossed my arms. “But what about clients? And how are you going to get any work done with him jabbering away?”  
Simon yelled from down the hall. “I HEARD THAT.”  
I yelled back without moving from my spot. “GOOD. IT’S THE TRUTH. AND I GUESS YOU DON’T ACTUALLY NEED AN OFFICE ANYWAY BECAUSE YOU DON’T DO ANY REAL, ACTUAL WORK.”  
“AGAIN WITH THAT SHIT? FUCK YOU, WOMAN.”  
Luke grinned. “So it’s settled, then.”  
“Looks that way. Thanks, Luke. You’re the best.”  
“I know. And please, do remember that tomorrow when you’re out with my better half…just when you think it’s time to bring him back, add on an hour or two, if you don’t mind.”  
Simon’s voice again. “YOU SUCK ARSE, THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU!”  
Luke winked at me, then off he went, and I closed the door behind him, walked over to where Tom was sitting, wrapped my arms around him from behind and placed a kiss on the nape of his neck. The resulting shiver made me chuckle, and I bit his earlobe prior to speaking.  
“So, where would you like me, Mr. Hiddleston?”  
He groaned. “I appreciate your diversionary tactics immensely, but…have a seat right here, please.” He patted the chair to his left. I sat, and he turned to meet my gaze.  
“I’m just going to jump right in here…so, after the food poisoning incident I began thinking to myself, what would happen if something were to…happen…to me?”  
“THOMAS. DO NOT EVEN GO THERE.”  
He rested his hand on my thigh. “I have to go there. Not just…death…but what if I was badly injured? Fell terribly ill? What if you didn’t have access to the funds you needed to deal with any of it? And also, as of now, my family could do as they pleased…and I trust them, of course, but…you’re the one who should be making those sorts of decisions on my behalf. Once we’re married, it’s easy, but that’s six months away and…what if, you know? And then, we set an actual timeline for getting pregnant…”  
I snorted. “Oh, are you getting pregnant too? WOW! I can’t wait to see THAT.” He took my hand in his, expression deeply concerned, which sobered me and I kept silent, feeling like a snarky shithead as I nodded for him to continue.  
“It hit me, the level of responsibility required, and that a month or two from now you could be carrying our child and I…I…I just want to set everything right so no matter what, that child is taken care of properly. So I requested an Amex for you…they’ll send another once we’re married and your name is officially changed…and got the ball rolling so I’d have all the documents in place we need in order to add you to all my financials, the flat, the car…all of it. If you aren’t comfortable doing the same, that’s fine, but all you have to do is sign these and…”  
I let go of his hand and leaned back in my chair, processing the enormity of it all. Insisting on paying my own way because NOT doing so made me feel like some sort of freeloader seemed so trivial when I examined the angle he’d been viewing things from, and I was unsure how to phrase things without sounding incredibly idiotic.  
“Tom…okay…I was avoiding this whole…thing…because in my head it was just money, and I have money, though it’s not the kind of money you have, and that’s where my issue was, because I don’t want you to ever think that I’m in this for that. Which I’m sure you already know, but…yeah. I’m sorry about that, and I should have just fucking said it, right? Right. And here you are, thinking not of yourself, but of me, and our future family and…wow. I’m really, really sorry. And I have no problem with you being joint in all my holdings, no problem at all…” He cut me off.  
“Even with the app coming out? That has the potential to turn you into a higher earner than me quite quickly.”  
I stared downward briefly, then back up to stare blankly at him, blinking like an owl as I did math in my head, smiling as I came up with a total. “You’re wrong. Even if we have ten thousand subscribers, I’m still under for the year what you make per film. By a decent amount. So there.”  
He laughed. “The maths elude me, Maude. You know this.”  
“No lies detected. The way it’s structured is that all the funds go into the Manageall business account and are dispersed from there, so as long as you’re on my checking account you’ll have access, and we’ll need to add you to the business itself…”  
Shaking his head, he leaned forward to kiss me softly. “Not necessary.”  
I shrugged. “I think it is. I’ll have Barty get to work on adding you to the New Orleans and New York houses as well…that’s pretty much it for me. Just checking, savings, the two houses. Nothing else. Glad I pulled everything out of the market. This is pretty simple, as far as this sort of shit goes.” I grimaced. “I guess we need…wills. Which we’ll have to modify if a kiddo enters the picture…”  
He smiled. “When.”  
My eyes rolled without hesitation, and I pinched his cheek. “Fine. WHEN. Now, give me a pen and let me sign all the things and then you can fuck my brains out. If that’s acceptable to you, that is. Is it?”  
He stood so quickly the chair toppled over behind him, grabbed my wrist and pulled me from mine, then dragged me to the couch, pinning me under him as he ground against me. “No. It isn’t. You can sign those anytime, but right now my cock needs to be in your pussy. RIGHT. NOW.”  
“But…TOM…that’s so…irresponsible of you…we need to get everything in done…”  
“I AM getting everything done. I’ve just decided to start with YOU.”  
He tickled me until I was a helpless blob, yanked my jeans off, unbuttoned and unzipped his own, then sank into me with a moan so ridiculously erotic that I came before he even began to move. Which turned out to be a good thing, as after fifteen quick but punishing thrusts he came as well, grunting into my ear as I wrapped my legs around him in order to rub out my version of the second coming.   
We rolled on our sides without separating, no easy task on the couch, his arms wrapped around me the only thing preventing me from falling backward and onto the floor. He smiled softly as I traced the lines of his face.  
“You are…you’re…you are such a good man, you know? Always thinking of other people, their needs.”  
He kissed the tip of my nose. “Not other people. Just you.”  
“Liar. You’re the most considerate human being I’ve ever met. And I love that. Probably because I’m, you know, NOT.”  
“Oh, stop. You’re incredibly considerate. Why, while we were on the plane back you only rolled your eyes at the mother of that screaming toddler instead of flipping her off…”  
I let my mouth drop open in feigned surprise. “Geeze, you know, you may be on to something there…personally, I think you’ve just made me…SOFT.”  
His cock twitched inside me, and he chuckled. “Sorry, but I can’t say the same for you, love. Sign and bed, perhaps?”  
“Yada yada yada, screw. Sounds about right.”  
We took care of that business, then the other business, and spooned as we dozed off, back in our own bed, in our own flat, and all of a sudden, I realized I was actually looking forward to Christmas, which hadn’t been the case in a very, very long time.  
****************************************  
Just after Tom and I finished breakfast on Tuesday, Bridezilla Ahlberg barged into our flat with his usual flourish, dressed in black skinny jeans, grey leather chukka boots, a grey tweed pea-coat with matching newsboy cap and a black and grey striped scarf wrapped around his neck. He took one look at me in my ratty, baggy men’s jeans and puffy black parka, pointing accusingly in my general direction.  
“Tell me you just came back from a coffee run and that you’re changing, like, now.”  
I looked down at myself, holding out one foot to show him the pair of Birkenstock boots I’d picked up before we left for Hawaii but didn’t have a chance to wear. “Um, no. But look, aren’t my new boots really, really beautiful? And cool? LOVE THEM, SIMON.”  
His eyes rolled. “Okay, as far as Birkenstocks go they’re decent. But those jeans look like you haven’t washed them in a week and my GOD that JACKET. Wait…is that FAKE FUR ON THE HOOD? You expect me to tool around London with a woman with fake fur on her hood? No. No no no no no. Think of my reputation!”  
He was right about the pants…almost. I’d worn them on the flight home and all day yesterday but the rest of my jeans were still packed away and I’d been entirely too lazy to dig them out. Under the parka I had on a black V-neck T-shirt, topped with one of Tom’s zip-up black cardigans, my hair bound up in a sloppy bun that would no doubt become a ponytail at some point in the day. No makeup, either. All of it the stuff of nightmares in Simonland. I snorted.  
“Well, look at it this way…I’m so hideous that everyone will spend more time looking at YOU, and that’s the goal, am I right?”  
Rubbing his hand with his chin, he considered my statement, then nodded. “That’ll do. Also, we’re already late so there’s simply not time for me to rectify the situation properly. Say your goodbyes to lover boy and let’s move it, please and thank you.”  
Tom had snuck into his office without my noticing, and rose instantly from his chair when I entered the room, wiggling around the furniture to embrace me. “You’re off, then, I take it?”  
I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his scent, which, let’s face it, was always a terrible idea. Pulling back, I sighed. “Yes. Off I go. Are you SURE you don’t want to…”  
He laughed. “Positive. I’ll stay right here in my comfy sweats, thanks. I’ll miss you, though.”  
“I’ll miss you too. Need anything while I’m out?”  
“Something chocolatey?”  
“Will do.” I pulled him down to me, kissing him, tongue running across his lips, then sliding inside his mouth halfway. He bit down gently, letting go as I groaned. “Well, for THAT you’re going to get random sexts all day long, Thomas.”  
“Mmm, that sounds fun. And the sweats make for easy access…”  
I shoved myself backwards, then turned to face the door as I walked through it, hand in the air and waving behind me. “Hasta la vista, baby.”  
He replied using his best Arnold voice. “You’ll be back.”  
“Uh huh. Yep. Sure thing.”  
His laughter followed me as I grabbed my bag, dragged Simon out into the hall, then closed and locked the door behind me. We walked down the steps to the main entrance, and I was surprised to see a cab waiting.  
“Don’t feel like driving today, Simon?”  
He opened the cab door for me. “Fuck no. Christmas shopper traffic…we’re cabbing and walking. Though probably more cabbing because that wind is wicked.”  
I put my hood up as he got in the other side, smirking. “You know, I hadn’t noticed. This parka is super-duper warm and stuff.”  
Plopping down, he flipped me off. “Whatever. So, aren’t you wondering what we’re doing today?”  
“Um…maybe? Mostly I’m just wondering how many tantrums you’re going to throw and if I’ll feel like I need a cocktail when all is said and done.”  
“How rude. You’re supposed to alleviate some of my stress, not cause more of it.”  
“Perhaps you chose unwisely when you asked me to be your maid of honor.”  
He threw his arms around me and kissed my cheek. “No, I did not. And I’m going to try very hard to not be nasty, bitchy, petty or throw tantrums today because I love you and I missed you and I have something very important to tell you and something very important to ask you but…first, the tailor so we can do our final fittings and then to Sugared Saffron to check on the cake and then to the Searcys to make sure the menu is set and everything is in place and then I’m taking you to Bocca Di Lupo for lunch, even if you aren’t dressed for it, which is fine because I know the chef, and we’ll talk while we dine and I AM GETTING MARRIED IN NINE DAYS PLEASE HELP ME.”  
Taking his jaw in my hand, I got close enough for us to touch noses. “It’s going to be fine, you’re going to be fine, and you know damn well that I’ll make sure that this wedding is going to be specfuckingtacular. Right? No one plans like me. No one organizes like me. No one gets shit done like me. And though I bust your balls endlessly about being a lazy piece of shit, you’re exactly the same way. Paired up? WE ARE UNSTOPPABLE. Now quit worrying and let’s get the work out of the way so we can go to lunch because you need to spill, son. SPILL.”  
And so it went, first the tailor, who had to take my dress in another inch at the waist and discreetly averted his eyes as best he could when confronted with my nipples. Then Sugared Saffron, where we examined the sketches for the six-tiered beast Simon had decided upon and got to see the special order 3-D printed topper…replicas of Luke and Simon right down to their eye color, standing shoulder to shoulder and holding hands, Simon in a white suit and shirt, Luke in all black, both with silver cummerbunds and pocket squares. I couldn’t resist asking the manager for contact info for the company he’d gotten the topper from, and he generously accommodated my request, even fishing around in his desk drawer for a business card. In hindsight, I think he was just hoping to distract me and get us out the door before we made any additional changes to the plans he’d thought he was finished with.  
The Gherkin blew my mind…Searcys was the top floor, and the views of the city were breathtakingly gorgeous in person. I tuned out and stared at the skyline while Simon talked food with the event manager, knowing his expertise and experience would guide him no matter how stressed he was. My phone dinged…a text from Tom.  
Still waiting on those sexts. Or have you decided my biting your tongue doesn’t require retaliation? – T  
Oh, it does. I was going to wait and swallow your cock whole when I got home as punishment, but if you’d prefer sexts instead, that’s fine with me. – M  
It was at least a full minute before he replied.  
Sorry. I dropped my phone and it flew under the desk and then I cracked my noggin on it as I tried to stand up. I believe I may require medical attention. – T  
Also, stop texting me RIGHT NOW and I’ll see you later on, all right? K thanks bye. :P – T  
As you wish. Lunch is next, then I’ll be home. Love you. – M  
Love you too. :D – T  
Simon and the event manager were bickering over which vegetarian dish to offer as an alternate main course, and when the manger asked my opinion I shrugged and said I was a carnivore who had little love for veggies, Simon snorted and blurted out ‘meat and only meat for the lady, please…she’s overly fond of sausages, or so I’m told’, which resulted in my excusing myself post haste so I could lose my shit privately in the bathroom, flushing the toilet repeatedly to mask my raucous laughter. By the time I was finished and walked back into the dining area, the waitstaff had arrived and Simon was standing alone, gazing out one of the windows. He turned to me, a sad smile on his face.  
“I wish my parents weren’t so awful. This is a huge thing for me in my life, marrying the person I love more than anything, and they’re…just…I read their Facebook posts sometimes, you know? And they’re horrified that their son is getting ‘gay married’ and all their friends are telling them how sorry they are and…anyway. I thought they were progressing a little, but…I was wrong. I should have known better.”  
I pulled him into an embrace, his head resting on my shoulder briefly. He cleared his throat and pulled away, but I took his hand, unwilling to let him go.   
“So, are they coming to the wedding?”  
He sighed. “They have yet to RSVP.”  
My mouth dropped open. “You invited them and they didn’t even RESPOND?” He nodded. “Wow. That is incredibly fucked up. I’m sorry, honey. Want me to hack their Facebook accounts and post an endless stream of rainbow flags and gay pride parade videos? Because I totally will. As long as you know their email addresses…and the passwords I might even be able to guess. Hedied number 4, capital U, maybe? Or how about thorncrown33?”  
First a gasp, then a giggle, followed by a chortle and a slap to my bicep. “You are HORRID, Maude, and I love you. So much. Thorncrown33. Good lord. HA, see what I did there? My god. HA! AGAIN!” The waitstaff was staring…not openly, but a glance and a smirk here and there. Simon tugged on my hand. “Time to go, BFF. Allow me to provide you with foodstuffs as a reward for your loyalty to the king, and your service as court jester.”  
We held hands in the elevator, and continued to do so out on the street as we waited for our cab. He leaned in to kiss my cheek at some point, and I kissed his in return. Words seemed unnecessary, and I wondered if that was what he’d wanted to tell me, which would leave only the thing he wanted to ask me, and I couldn’t even being to imagine what that might be. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the long lens of a camera poking out from behind a bush.  
“Um…Simon? You might want to prepare yourself to be slightly more internet famous than you already are.”  
He looked around, and I pointed. He waved at the camera. “Hi! Yes, this is Tom Hiddleston’s fiancée. Maude Gallagher. Yes, I am holding her hand. Yes, I just kissed her.” He let go of me and walked over to the bush, peering around it. “Oh good, there you are. My name is Simon Ahlberg. Lovely to meet you, and sorry to disappoint, but I’m gay. And engaged. Actually, I’m getting married on New Year’s Eve, at the stroke of midnight, to the most wonderful man in the world, Luke Windsor. Proprietor of Prosper PR. Genius, love of my life. Will you print that, maybe? I’d appreciate it if you would. Also, Maude is my maid of honor. It’s going to be the best wedding ever. And I mean EVER! Print that too, okay? I’m a petty bitch and want everyone to be jealous.” He turned on his heel and literally skipped back to my side as I saw the pap emerge and wander off, shaking his head.  
My own head was shaking back and forth, and I began to applaud. “Dude, that was fabulous. SO FABULOUS.”  
“I know. I hope he runs with it…because seeing an article in the Daily Fail or something about me getting gay married would really piss my parents off.”  
During the cab ride he called Luke, whose response to the pap encounter was initially ‘you did WHAT?’ but dissolved into ‘I love you even more than I thought possible right now’ and I just sat quietly, torn between ranking on them and reveling in the magnitude of the love they’d found in each other.  
Bocca Di Lupo looked tiny from the outside, the front coral-colored bricks and industrial style windows. The interior was actually spacious and bright, the length of the building allowing for a decent amount of patrons. To the right was a bar that took up a quarter of the entire space, the bottom crafted from medium, rich honey colored wood, seamless and curved at either end, the oval top comprised of stone, round stools with rust-brown leather seats and chrome legs. The dining tables were toward the rear, and we were seated just on the other side of the bar, tucked in a corner with a wall on two sides. The table tops were the same material as the bar counter, and the chair cushions, back and seat alike, had the same covering as the bar stool seats. The lighting was amazing, a huge O-shaped chandelier with metal accents, placed right in the center of the dining area.

I took one look at the menu and raised a brow. “Lamb sweetbreads? Pigeon? Suckling pig? Really?”  
Simon rolled his eyes. “I am attempting to expand your food horizons by encouraging you to sample some authentic Italian dishes.”  
“Thanks, but…no thanks. The buffalo mozzarella seems safe…it’s just buffalo milk, right? And I’ll have the meatballs braised with wine and lemon, and a side of roast potatoes and wild garlic.”  
“Never say I didn’t try. I’m going for the octopus, roast tomato, celery and basil salad, wild boar as my main, and a blood orange and red onion salad.”  
The waiter took our order, and as we sipped our drinks Simon fidgeted in his seat for a few minutes, finally breaking the silence by clearing his throat.  
“Okay, Miss Maude. I’m not sure whether I should ask or tell first.”  
“You didn’t already tell?”  
His head titled to the side. “Um…no. Why…oh, right, the parents. No. That just…happened. I’ve decided I want to do the asking now. So here I go. You know our wedding song is Feeling Good by Nina Simone, yes?”  
“Yes. Duh. I’ve told you at least a hundred times that I love it and it’s one of my favorites and it’s perfect. And Phaedra has a friend who’s going to sing…”  
“Yeah. About that…her friend’s gone off to Ireland to care for a family member who’s become ill, so she won’t be singing after all. Which leaves us without someone to sing our wedding song and…”  
“Are you going to ask me to sing a Nina Simone song? THAT Nina Simone song? With the bit of scatting towards the end that I could never, ever replicate? At your wedding?”  
He nodded emphatically. “Yes times four. Not like you haven’t sung it before, or am I wrong?”  
“Of course I’ve sung it before. Just not in front of a room full of people at A WEDDING when it was the WEDDING SONG.”  
Leaning across the table, he placed his hand over mine. “So will you do it?”  
My chin fell to my chest as I sighed, then lifted my head to meet his gaze. “Sure. Why not. Not like I’ll be wearing a see-through dress and pasties while I’m doing it…OH WAIT…I WILL BE!”  
I could practically see the relief wash over him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You’ll be fantastic, I know it, and it means so much, having you sing it…” He broke off as the waiter appeared with our appetizers, wiping a tear from his cheek. The buffalo milk mozzarella was delicious, and I focused on it intently so I wouldn’t notice the octopus bits on Simon’s plate and barf all over the table. The main course arrived shortly thereafter, and we ate quickly, casually exchanging stories regarding what we’d been up to while we were apart. We both ordered chocolate and marzipan balls with rum and raisins for desert, and I threw caution to the wind and chose a Bicern to go with it…a mix of hot chocolate, coffee and cream. Once that had been delivered, Simon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them.  
“Now comes the telling. This is a big one, and it’s not something we’re telling anyone other than Phaedra and you and Tom until the time is right. So.” Another deep breath. “Luke and I have decided that we’d like to have a family. Together. A child. Children. Kids. Us. Together. We’ve got our egg donor, and some eggs set aside already, actually, and just last week we found our surrogate. Now this is the crazy part, the totally, completely mental bit…are you ready?” I just stared, and he snorted and continued. “It’s my ex-wife, Lisa.”  
Mouth agape, head tilted, I was momentarily at a loss for words. “Are you…are you…are you fucking kidding me?”  
He roared with laughter. “No. No I am not. Luke and I discussed our plans with Roland, because it’s something we thought he should be aware of so he can get used to the idea, and apparently he went home and told Lisa that we wanted to have a family and that he wished he knew how to help because I’m such a great dad already and Luke’s a great dad too and that any kid would be really, really lucky to have us as parents and...” He paused, holding back a sob, then continued, tears streaming down his face. “So Lisa talked to Jim, her husband, and they all came over and…here we are. She loves being pregnant, apparently. And she actually said she’s very happy for me, that I finally found what I was looking for, and that raising a child with someone you love is an experience everyone deserves to have and…” He put his head in his hands, weeping, and I reached across and took hold of his wrists.  
“Simon…that’s incredible, and beautiful and I’m so, so thrilled for you both.”  
He pulled his hands from mine in order to blow his nose in his napkin. “The plan is to use two embryos on the first go round, one fertilized by my sperm, the other by Luke’s and see what happens. And…we’re going to start trying in April. And AND, if and when we’re successful, I’m likely going to be stepping away from Prosper to be the stay-at-home parent.”  
Those words hit me hardest, because I hadn’t even thought about what I’d want to do when there was a real, actual baby in the picture. Would I continue to work full time? Go part time? Not work at all? Yay, more things for me to obsess over. And what would Tom want to do? Cut back on his own work? Try and stay close to home? Or would the baby and I travel with him? I was yanked from my wool gathering by Simon tapping on my forehead.  
“Maude? You okay? What’s going on in there?”  
I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them. “Well, since it’s confession time and all…I’m going off the pill next month. So, are you all ready for Christmas or what?”  
“MAUDE! OH MY GOD! CAN YOU IMAGINE IF WE HAVE BABIES AT THE SAME TIME?” He realized he was shouting about my personal business in the middle of a crowded restaurant, threw a wad of cash on the table, and escorted me outside, my jacket only halfway on. “Sorry about that. Damn. But I AM SO EXCITED! Are you excited?”  
“Uh…sure. Yep. Excited. Also filled with trepidation with a little horror mixed in because I have no idea what I’m doing and will probably suck at being a mom. But also in awe of the fact that there might be a little combo of Hiddleston/Gallagher genetics running amok at some point, and I can’t wait to see Tom with a baby. He’s always wanted to be a father. Hopefully I’m not too old to make that happen. Christ. Can we be done talking about this? I…”  
He gave me the biggest bear hug I’ve ever had, whispering in my ear as we waited for the cab. “Don’t be stressed. I’ve got experience, and trust me, it’s the most amazing thing you’ll ever do, and you’ll be an exceptionally excellent mother. And you aren’t too old, honey. Plus, if you need a little help, you have the funds. So no worries. It will happen.”  
I wiggled free as the cab pulled up to the curb. “I hope so. Shit. I promised Tom chocolate. Can we swing by a bakery on the way home?”  
His elbow rose in my direction. “Twist my arm, why don’t you?”  
“You sure you want to put that out there, Simon?’  
He tucked his arm back into his side. “I hereby rescind my offer. A sling would really clash with the wedding theme, and inhibit my dancing considerably. Good call.”  
“Damn right.”  
The ride back was uneventful, both of us busy munching on some of the chocolate chip cookies we’d purchased. After trekking up the stairs we hugged goodbye in the hallway, and as I turned my key in the lock I could hear Tom speaking loudly inside. I opened the door to find him pacing in the kitchen, one hand in his hair, pushing it back over and over, the other holding his phone to his ear.  
“Yes, yes, I KNOW. Okay. I’m not sure how to handle this. I know. You don’t either. It’s just so sudden. We’ll figure it out. Maude’s home. I have to go.” He tapped his phone, then looked up at me, his face paler than usual, visibly upset and unduly stressed. “It’s my father.”  
My first thought was that he’d passed away, but Tom’s tone during the call didn’t quite convey that. He’d seemed agitated, short tempered…and that was my shtick for a dead parent, not his. I walked toward him, stopping a foot away, uncertain if he wanted to be touched at this juncture, speaking firmly but softly.  
“What happened?”  
“He’s coming to Christmas. After almost twenty years of completely ignoring all of us during the holidays, the son of a bitch is coming to Christmas.”


	39. Chapter 39

I dumped my bag and the baked goods on the counter, then leaned back against it.  
“He never joins your family for the holidays? But this year…he IS? Did someone tell him that you all know what he did? What the actual fuck, man?”  
He shook his head. “Em and Sarah insist they haven’t said a word, and I sure as hell haven’t, and I don’t think Mum has…so we’re all completely blown out of the water by this. He called Mum earlier and essentially said ‘I’ve decided to join you Thursday and Friday’ and that was that. After the divorce, he showed up two years running, but once Em was ten he decided that his presence was no longer necessary because Christmas was for children and surely she’d grown past such foolishness by then. He never even bothered to show up last year, when Sarah and Ansh were finally able to join us at Christmas for the first time since having Saachi.”  
I crossed my arms. “So, he doesn’t turn up for a first Christmas with his only grandchild but this year, he does? Is it because she’s a little older, maybe? Eh, that sounds ridiculous so I’ll say that is totally not the reason. What’s your take on this? Any ideas?”  
His gaze fell to the floor, then returned to my face. I didn’t wait for him to speak.  
“Oh for fuck’s sake you think it’s me, don’t you?” My arms uncrossed, one hand rising to my forehead and resting there, palm down. “But WHY? Why does he give even the remotest shit about you and I, if he hasn’t cared about anything else…OH MY FUCKING GOD, IT IS ME, isn’t it? Jesus…listen, babe, if you want me to sit this one out…”  
Closing the distance between us, he took me in his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Not. A. Chance. If you don’t feel comfortable going, I’m staying right here with you.” He leaned back, staring into my eyes. “And yes, I do think it’s related to you in some way. I just can’t quite figure out how or why.”  
“Is that what your mother thinks? Is that who you were talking to?”  
His head shook again. “No, that’s not what she thinks…I was talking to her and my sisters on a conference call. None of them know what to think. They’re just trying to figure out how to flow with it and not let it ruin the holiday. Which is a challenge and a half, after this past summer.”  
I released him and grabbed the bakery bag from behind me. “Let’s have some cookies and put on our thinking caps and try and puzzle this out.”  
A dozen over-sized chocolate chip delights and an hour later, we were no closer to solving the equation, likely because, as Tony Stark explained in the Avengers, we didn’t have all the variables.  
Tom’s head was in his hands, elbows on the dining table amongst the crumby mess we’d made, and he spoke without looking up. “Bottom line is no matter what the man throws at you, IF he throws anything at you, that is…I know you can handle it, Maude. You on your weakest day is a thousand times more powerful than him on his strongest.”  
As he glanced through his fingers at me, across the table, I raised a brow. “Uh, a thousand? Hyperbolize much, Tom?”  
He sat up, smiling. “I do not. You simply underestimate your strength, my love.”  
I rolled my eyes. “Puh-leaze. Stop it. Honestly, it’s all totally confusing and makes no sense and I’m slamming myself up against a logic wall at this point. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Which, as you know, fucking drives me bat crap crazy so…feel like going out for some burgers and wrapping supplies?”  
Standing, he stretched, arms up toward the ceiling, his lower belly and happy trail peeking at me yet again. It was a view I would never tire of, for sure. When my eyes made their way up to his face, he was grinning. Caught, I was…red handed. Eyed? Something.  
“That sounds perfect, actually. I’ll go put some pants on.”  
I bit my lip. “Good. You do that. I’m going to use the facilities.” His mouth opened, but I cut him off. “I’m PEEING. Nothing else, you bastard. I am capable of restraint, you know.” A chuckle. “Oh, MAN…”  
He jogged up the stairs, and shortly thereafter we were out the door and on our way.  
****************************************  
My alarm went off at six AM on Wednesday, and I left Tom all warm and naked in our bed to grab a cheese danish and a cup of tea before heading downstairs. I’d wrapped my gifts for him last night, having locked myself in the over-crowded spare room. At points I could hear him breathing heavily outside the door, and knew he was doing it on purpose to distract me in hopes of getting a look at what I’d gotten for him. He gave up after three attempts, and I was able to continue in peace. Diana had come to my aid, providing me with a list of all she could recall of the Jurassic Park toys Tom had played with as a child. One by one I’d tracked them down on eBay and had them sent to the office, and Simon had hidden them for me in our flat while we’d been gone. I’d even managed to score the rare Electronic T-Rex, Jungle Explorer Vehicle and the Command Compound, new and sealed in their boxes. The action figures weren’t quite as hard to find, and I’d gotten a set that included five of the main characters still in their original packaging. In addition to those, as a sort of gag-but-not-really gift, I’d found a very cool strap-on set that included six dildos, sized from kinda small to bigger than Tom’s own cock. THAT one I put off to the side so I wouldn’t accidentally bring it with us to Diana’s house…plus, I was hoping he would want to try it out, like, immediately after opening it. Part of me wanted to save it for Loki’s next visit, but I’d been thinking about it for months, and he’d mentioned it several times, so, no time like the present, right? The pièce de résistance was obtained via the most convoluted network of human beings I’d ever had to wrangle, a daisy chain that included Stephen Spielberg which had started with me and ended with Harrison Ford writing a letter and signing one of the fedoras he’d worn in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. The only downside was that I was aware that it was likely a feat I would never, ever be able to top.  
The shipment arrived as scheduled, eight AM on the dot, and the driver even schlepped it all downstairs for us. Everything had been prepped and ready to go, so Trudy and I set about getting all the servers in place so they’d be ready to connect once the utility company was done installing the T1 line…they’d turned up just after we’d opened the cartons. Everyone else was off for the day, so we cranked some tunes while we set up the network itself and installed all the software. As soon as our internet was accessible, we updated the newly-installed software, then began adding our own. Trudy and I had written the client management program together, though the base code was hers alone. It had functioned perfectly during previous testing, so we focused mainly on it running cross network and left it at that. Tom brought us lunch at around two, and after our break we dove into external DNS access, connectivity and security protocols. It was the most time-consuming and intricate part of the process, but by midnight we had a functional, locked down system that was ready for intensive testing, which was set to begin first thing Monday morning. From the look on Trudy’s face, though, I was reasonably sure that she’d be at it over the weekend if she got the chance. The only other remaining obstacle, other than testing, was the installation of security devices and alarms, and the company providing us with those was scheduled to come in on Tuesday. We celebrated our victory by inhaling an entire bag of truffles, high fiving each other and bragging about how we’d accomplished in a single day what Mark hadn’t been able to achieve in months. It was just after one AM when I dragged myself upstairs, then up the flat’s steps, stripped, and crawled in next to a slumbering Tom…and I would have thought he’d remained there for the entire day if it weren’t for the fact that he’d brought Trudy and I lunch.  
Thursday afternoon found us on the road, quickly nearing Oxford, gifts tucked into the trunk of the Jaguar, our season’s greetings having been exchanged with Luke and Simon right before we’d left. They were spending the holiday with Luke’s parents, and Roland would be joining them for Boxing Day. U2 performing Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) was on the radio, and I was watching Tom’s hands as he manipulated the steering wheel. An elegant man guiding an elegant machine. The brief feeling of positivity about the holiday I’d experienced on Tuesday had faded after the whole ‘dad’s coming’ thing, and I really, really felt like asking him to turn around so we could go back home and have our own private, peaceful Christmas….but I knew he’d say yes, and I didn’t want to be the one responsible for him missing out on time with his family, which, in spite of all the insanity, had always been precious to him, even more so since he’d started travelling for his career.  
He turned to me, smiling. “All set for your first holiday with the future in-laws?”  
“Sure. Yep. You betcha.”  
His right hand left the wheel and pressed gently into my thigh. “I’m sorry it’s gone a bit off the rails, my love.”  
I snorted. “When we write our joint biography, that’s SO going to be the title.”  
“Oh, I like that. Fitting.”  
“Unlike this damn bra.” I reached down the V-neck of my blood-red sweater and shifted my boobs back into place. The color was the closest I could force myself to come to being festively dressed, whereas Tom was wearing a bright green monstrosity that his mother had given him last Christmas. Apparently, that was her thing…new holiday sweaters for everyone each year. Shaking my head, I reminded myself to be grateful that it wasn’t one of the infamous UGLY Christmas style sweaters, and also that I needed to say a hearty thank you and pretend to like the one that was surely lying in wait for me to open tomorrow. I heard a car horn honk, and realized that Tom had drifted off to the side of the road because he was staring at my tits. “Dude. Eyes on the road. EYES ON THE ROAD.”  
“I know, I know. Sorry. But surely you can’t expect me to look away when you’re fiddling with them so artistically and they’re shifting around with such buoyance like…like…”  
“Like, boobs?”  
He nodded. “Yes. Boobs. Do shut up now, Maude. Safety first, you know.”  
“Oh, safety…speaking of, you know this seat belt really rubs against them something fierce…”  
“Behave, lest Father Christmas decides you belong on the naughty list after all.”  
I sighed in mock exasperation. “You are really, really mean, you know? But let’s be real, I’ve GOT to be on that naughty list already because what I bought YOU is…”  
“NO SPOILERS. WE AGREED NO SPOILERS.”  
“But it’s…”  
“My lord, woman, NO. NO NO NO NO NO.”  
I chuckled, then reached over to rest my hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing gently with my thumb. “No spoilers, babe. I promise.” He moaned quietly as I pressed harder. “How are you coping with this? It’s all strange and new for me, but you’re used to it being a certain way. You okay?”  
His right hand returned to my thigh as he turned onto the street that would take us to his childhood home. “You’re right, I am accustomed to the holidays being as they’ve always been since he stopped coming, and if I’m honest, it’s been vastly better that way. But it is what it is, and I’m just going to focus on the fact that it’s our first Christmas together and…well…fuck everything else.”  
“Fuck everything else. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”  
He grinned, rotating the wheel to the right as he pulled into the driveway, two other cars already neatly parked in front of the garage. “No, you couldn’t have…because it’s essentially the exact phrasing you would have chosen, is it not?”  
“You are correct, sir. Did you perchance buy me a thesaurus for Christmas so I can expand my vocabulary?”  
He put the car in park, leaned over and bit my neck. “I did no such thing. I happen to both admire and adore your vocabulary. Especially your habitual overuse of things like ‘oh yes’ and ‘oh god’ and ‘fuck me’.”   
I bit my bottom lip and smiled, left brow raised. “I love you, you ridiculously horny dork.”  
He laughed and pinched my cheek. “Lobbing that right back at you.”  
We were grabbing our first load of stuff from the trunk when the yelling started. It was faint at first, and high pitched, and then I saw an adorable tiny human running towards us.  
“Uncle Tommy! Happy Christmas! Happy Christmas!”  
She was gorgeous, big dark eyes, dark brown hair, two shoulder-length braids bouncing and flying out behind her as she drew closer. I knew she was four, and thought she was probably of average height for that age, but in truth I had no fucking idea because children were like creatures from another planet to me. The way Tom squatted down to catch her in his arms then lifted her up, first spinning her, then popping her onto his shoulders and running a few laps around the driveway as he screamed ‘yay’ right along with her made my heart melt, and when I imagined him doing the same thing with our own child, I found it hard to breathe. Tom ran back to me, Saachi still on his shoulders, both of them grinning like fools. An unfamiliar voice caused me to inhale sharply, and I saw a woman approaching us quickly. She was about my height, though I was wearing my Diva Darcies so that stacked the deck a bit, slender, bearing a strong resemblance to Tom but with a different nose, a good amount of visible freckles across her cheeks and strawberry-blonde hair. I’d only seen her in pictures until this moment, and her hair had been much longer, down to her waist, as opposed to the chin-length bob she was sporting was now…but there was no doubt it was Sarah.  
“Saachi, what did we decide? We decided that we’d wait for Uncle Tom and Aunt Maude to come INSIDE before throwing ourselves at them, did we not?”  
Aunt Maude. Not helping with the breathing difficulties. Sarah strode toward me first, arms wide open, wrapping me in a snug embrace that I was barely able to return. She pulled back, hands grasping my forearms as she looked me up and down, smiling beatifically.   
“Maude, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’d like to formally welcome you to the insanity that is every single Hiddleston holiday. And pretty much every Hiddleston gathering, come to think of it.” Her hands slid down to hold mine, lifting the left one up to examine my ring. “My word, this is so unique and stunningly elegant.” She released me as she turned to Tom. “Well done, little brother. Saachi, have you said hello to Aunt Maude yet?”  
Saachi shook her head, and Tom lifted her off his shoulders and placed her gently on the ground. She held out one tiny hand, looking up at my shyly. “Hello, Auntie Maude. ‘S nice to meet you.”  
I leaned down and took her hand in mine, shaking very gently, terrified that I’d somehow break her. “Hi Saachi. It’s nice to meet you too.”  
She paused, glancing down at my feet then back up at my face, nodding, still holding my hand. “I like your shoes. Come inside and help us decorate the tree. Grandma has lots of pretty things we have to hang today so Father Christmas will come tonight.”   
And with that, I was led up the driveway by the adorable tiny human, her mother and uncle following behind me, both giggling, their arms around each other’s waists.  
An incredibly handsome man with dark hair to his shoulders and nearly-black eyes was waiting in the doorway. He squatted down, hands on the knees of his jeans. “Well, my Saachi, I see you’ve brought us a new friend. Thank you.” He ruffled her hair as he stood, then extended his hand toward me. “Hello, Maude. I’m Ansh, but you likely knew that already. Lovely to meet you.”  
We shook briefly, as Saachi was tugging on my other hand. “Good to meet you as well, Ansh. I’d stay and chat but I think someone has other plans…”  
He laughed. “She always has some sort of plan. Gets that from her mother.”  
Sarah and Tom had caught up to us, and she reached out and slugged Ansh in the shoulder. “If I didn’t always have a plan, where would you be, Ansh? Back home, that’s where. At the airport, eight hours late.”  
He kissed her cheek. “You speak the truth, my love. I am grateful for your plans. Unquestionably.”  
She chuckled, and they led the way into the living room. Saachi pulled me forward, and Tom took hold of my other hand. The staircase had been done up with fresh pine garland and white lights, and the tree was directly ahead, at the front-facing portion of the living/drawing room. It had white lights as well, and plastic tubs full of decorations were scattered around it, and on the closest couch as well. Diana was bent over one of the tubs, Emma was holding another and rummaging through it, and behind her was David, her fiancé. She’d shown me pictures of him on her phone, and I hadn’t thought he’d be so tall…same height as Tom, stockier build, and an honest-to-goodness genuine ginger with green eyes. He’d taken a single step toward me when Diana and Em noticed we’d arrived, both rushing ahead of David to dole out hugs. Diana reached me first, and Saachi let go of my hand in order to move out of the way, skipping over to stand at her mother’s side.  
“Maude! Welcome, welcome! I’m so glad you came.” She squeezed me, then kissed my cheeks. “You look beautiful in that color. How are you? How’s your new project coming along?” Laughing and shaking her head, she released me. “You can answer over dinner…I’m sure you and Tom want to finish unloading the car and getting everything up to your room. Same as last time for you both so you have your own bath. Sarah and Ansh are in my room, Em and Dave are in Sarah’s old room, James will be in Em’s old room, and I’m in Tom’s.”  
I could feel my eyes widen, remembering what havoc we’d wreaked on Tom’s bed during our last visit. “You know, we’d be just fine in Tom’s room…”  
Diana grinned slyly. “No, no, it’s all right. I’ll be perfectly comfortable in the new double I had put in last week. Long overdue, truthfully. That old single had seen far better days.” She winked at me, and I tried to not die on the spot as she switched places with Em, who stared at my rapidly reddening cheeks, then giggled as she embraced me, whispering in my ear.  
“Never underestimate Mum’s ability to find things out, Maude. She’s like Sherlock, but…worse.”  
We released each other, my neck and chest now flushed as well. “Oh. My. God. Sooo…does EVERYONE know we broke the bed? Distant relatives? Friends from work? Random strangers? Should I start wearing a ski mask when I’m out in public?”  
Em doubled over, laughing. “Oh, Maude…you are hilarious.”  
Tom and Diana had separated, her attention diverted to Saachi, who was peeking out from behind Diana’s legs and waving at me. I waved back, feeling Tom’s hand come to rest on my lower back.  
“What’s hilarious, Em?”  
She pointed at me, trying to compose herself and failing. “Her. Ask her. I can’t.”   
And with that I grabbed Tom, pulling him back toward the door. “Let’s get the rest of the stuff now, m’kay?”  
As soon as we were outside he turned his head in my direction, in step with me as we headed for the car. “So, does our hasty exit have something to do with what was hilarious?”  
I nodded. “Yup.”  
“And?”  
“And what?”  
“And I thought this was the part where you tell me what was…”  
“Your mother knows we broke your bed.”  
We’d reached the car, and he had the keys in his hand, ready to open the trunk, but promptly dropped them onto the pavement upon hearing my words. His mouth hung open, then snapped shut before he reached down to pick them up, then spoke.  
“I’m sorry…what was that again?”  
“Your mother. She knows. That we broke your childhood bed. While having sex.”  
He leaned on the car for support. “Well fuck ME.”  
I snorted. “Exactly the root of the problem.”  
He shook his head, eyes wide, now standing erect, hands out to the side at shoulder level. “And to think I spent all those years managing to not get caught tossing off, yet a single visit home with you…”  
“Mmm hmm. Sorry, sunshine...joke all you like, but I have no idea how I’m going to go back in there.”  
He reached out a hand, which I grudgingly accepted, then pulled me into his arms. “I’ll be right there with you, by your side, your eternal partner in familial mortification. We’ll take the mickey together.”  
I sighed, gazing up at him. “This isn’t ever going to go away, is it?”  
“Oh, no. Never. We’ll be a hundred and fifty and they’ll still be going on about it.” His eyes closed briefly. “My mother knows I had vigorous sex in my childhood bedroom with my wife-to-be. That’s not so awful, is it? I mean, it’s obvious that we HAVE sex, is it not? We’re adults, in our thirties, we live together…one should assume…”  
“And your sister. Don’t forget about your sister. And probably your other sister. And…”  
“Good lord, my sisters. Get in the Jag, my love…next stop, home.”  
I pulled him down to me, kissing him gently at first, then sucking his bottom lip into my mouth. He groaned when I released him.  
“Maude.”  
“What?”  
“Now I’m sporting a raging hard-on. Lovely accompaniment to my other problem, that.”  
Grinning, I took the keys from him and opened the trunk, loading myself up with bags. “Figured maybe that would give them something else to discuss besides the bed, you know?”  
“Fantastic.”  
“I thought so, anyway.”  
He rested one hand on my shoulder and I turned to find his face an inch from mine. “My mother knows I have sex.”  
I nodded. “Your mother knows you have sex with ME. We’re just going to pretend this never happened and if anyone mentions it I’m going to feign a fainting spell and you can carry me out to the car and we’ll escape. Sound like a plan?”  
“Yes, but then they’re likely to think you’re pregnant…”  
“Shut the fuck up, Tom.”  
Laughing, he kissed my cheek and grabbed the remainder of our luggage. “Yes, ma’am. Will do."  
****************************************  
We shot right upstairs to our room upon re-entry, sat on the bed for a few minutes, then walked down the stairs to meet our fate. Everyone was busy decorating, and we helped hang ornaments, Saachi picking them out and instructing me where to place them. Just when I thought we were in the clear, Tom pressed against me from behind to put a fragile bauble higher up and I lost my balance, falling forward and almost taking out the eight foot spruce. He caught me by quickly wrapping one arm around my waist, but the tree was left shaking like mad.  
Sarah broke the brief silence that followed in my clumsy dork wake. “Easy there, you two. Beds we’ve aplenty, but there’s only one tree.”  
Everyone burst out laughing, including the man holding my sorry ass up…though he tried to disguise it, I could feel his chest vibrating against my back. I was in the middle of turning around to take a bow when the doorbell rang and the room fell silent yet again.   
Diana cleared her throat and spoke, her voice bright and cheery. “Well, that’s Dad, then. I’ll see him in.”  
My eyes met Tom’s, then noted him swallowing repeatedly before smiling at me. I stood at his side, our arms around each other’s waists, waiting, listening to distant voices that drew ever closer until their source came into full view. Tom’s father was around his height, strikingly handsome, hair gone completely white. I could see bits of Tom in his face, and similarities in the way he held himself. Elegant, just shy of regal. He was wearing a light blue button down shirt under a navy blazer, paired with khaki slacks and toffee brown deck shoes. His accent, though not as strong as it likely was before relocating to England, was still present, and the melodic Scottish lilt combined with the pitch of Tom’s voice reminded me of Sean Connery.   
“Hello, all. Happy Christmas.”  
His greeting seemed to hang in the air, creating an undercurrent of tension, awkwardness and uncertainty. No one replied, except for Saachi.  
“Happy Christmas, Granddad. Your hair is very white. Mummy says we’ve met before but I don’t remember because I was a baby then and babies aren’t good at remembering.”  
He went to her instantly, squatting down before her and taking her hand, then planting a kiss on the top of it.  
“My, you’ve grown into a beautiful young lass, Saachi. I’m very glad to see you.”  
She giggled and pulled her hand away, eyes narrowing. “Have you brought me a present?”  
Sarah groaned. “Saachi, remember your manners, please.” James stood, and Sarah embraced him tentatively. “Hello, Dad. Good to see you.”  
Ansh garnered a handshake, as did Dave, and Em was the recipient of a hug, which she returned with visibly shaking hands. That left Tom. And me. James closed the distance between himself and us in four striding steps. He reached out and patted Tom’s upper arm.  
“Thomas. How are you, son?”  
Tom returned the gesture. “Fantastic, Dad. You?”  
James nodded. “Quite well, quite well.” He turned to me. “And you must be Maude.”  
I faked a smile. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Hiddleston.” When I extended my hand, he accepted and shook vigorously.  
“The feeling’s mutual. And please, call me James.”  
I nodded as he released me and turned to Diana. “I believe I was promised some of your famous fish and chips, Di. It’s been far too long…”  
She rolled her eyes. “All battered, the fryer’s been ready for an hour, waiting on you.”  
He laughed, she laughed, and the rest of just stared at each other, heads tilted like a pack of confused puppies.  
Dinner was delicious, but the undercurrent of strangeness permeated the atmosphere. Desert was assorted puddings served with coffee and tea, as well as the sugar cookies Diana had baked and decorated to make me feel more at home, as it wasn’t part of their tradition. Saachi decided that from that point on, they would be. She began to doze off at nine-thirty or so as we all sat in the living room after a round of caroling, her head bobbing and finally coming to rest on Sarah’s upper arm. Ansh scooped her up, and when she woke briefly she mumbled something about presents then was out cold again. When he and Sarah came back downstairs after tucking her in, James cleared his throat and stood, moving to the center of the horseshoe of couches, hands extended, palms up as he addressed the room.  
“Well then. I’d imagine you’re all wondering what in heaven’s name I’m doing here, and I aim to explain as best I can, but wanted to wait until the little one was off to bed first.” No one moved, no one spoke, and after he was certain things would remain as such, he continued. “Simply put, your mother invited me to join the family for Christmas.”  
Sarah, who was seated closest to Diana, turned to her, eyes wide. “Mum. You invited him? Is he serious?”   
Diana nodded. “Yes. I did. He is.” She glanced pointedly at each of her progeny in turn. “And as a favor to your Mum, I’m requesting that you please allow him to continue.” Sarah returned her gaze to James, nodding curtly along with Tom and Emma.   
James cleared his throat again. “Back in August, she reached out to me and asked me over for dinner so we could discuss a few…things. She advised me of what you all had spoken about, making it clear that the reason for our divorce was no longer a matter just between the two of us. Since then, we’ve been talking frequently. About the past, mainly, but also about the future. And we’ve…well, we’ve become rather decent friends.”  
It was Emma’s turn for an outburst. “Friends? Surely you’re joking. Or I’m dreaming, or I’m in some parallel universe. Friends? Mum? Have you both lost your minds?”  
Diana laughed. “Sometimes I wonder, love. But yes. We’ve spent a good bit of time going over everything, from the moment we met until we divorced, trying to figure it all out, what went wrong, the why of it, and…it just seemed it was something we needed to do, once and for all, I suppose.”  
Sarah shook her head, eyes on Diana, left index finger pointing at James. “After everything he’s done…you’ve FORGIVEN him?” Her voice was raw, full of emotion she was struggling to contain.  
Diana shook her head as well. “Sarah, it isn’t always about forgiveness. Sometimes it’s about closure. And acceptance.”  
James nodded, his expression grim. “I would never, ever expect your mother to forgive me for my actions. They were unconscionable. Indefensible. Deplorable. Nor would I expect any of you to forgive them. That’s not why I’m standing before you. I’m here to apologize, though I understand that such a thing is likely too little and too late. But I’m doing it anyway. Sarah and Emily, I’m sorry you lived your lives without me when you needed a father most, though perhaps you were better off, and I’m sorry you were left wondering what went wrong between your mother and me. It was wrong, of both of us, to deny you your own closure, to not tell you the truth. And Tom…the way you found out what I’d been doing, that you carried that with you for so long, a burden so heavy, all on your own…and that you thought at some point you were to blame for the divorce…I…” He cleared his throat, overcome with emotion he likely didn’t want to display. “The three of you deserved better. Your mother deserved better. Over the past few years, as I’ve begun to not recognize the old man I see in the mirror every morning because he can’t possibly be ME…I started to view the past with new eyes. I can see my selfishness, the pain I’ve caused, the destruction I’ve wrought. I’ve lain awake many a night wishing I could go back and change it. But I can’t. And that’s the worst of it. I can’t take it back, I can’t make it disappear. And I’m not going to make excuses for myself, but I feel that I need to be honest, for a change…my first marriage ended, but the hurt…didn’t. And that was not something a man like me admits, especially to himself. So I told myself that love was useless, that it was pointless frivolity. And I believed it, like a religion. From that point forward, that’s how I lived my life. I liked, respected and enjoyed your mother, but I wouldn’t allow myself to become emotionally attached. Same thing with all of you. I focused on my career, and I permitted myself to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, but love…that had left me betrayed and broken, and I maintained a firm, albeit foolish, resolve that I was never going to let that happen again.”  
Again, silence fell over the room.   
“So. Here we are. I suppose the point of what I said there is that what I’ve learned is that allowing your past to walk with you in the present does irreparable harm to the future, and not only yours, but that of those around you. As I said, I expect no forgiveness from you. I’m unworthy of it. But I came, because…because I wanted to tell you, in person, that you three, my children, you are all intelligent, talented, loving, caring people. And I am grateful for that now, each and every day. And I thank your mother for doing all the work of raising you, for being there for you, and teaching you how life should properly be lived. It’s not about money, it’s not about success, it’s not about power…it’s about the connections you form with the people around you. It doesn’t matter so much when you’re young and you have, seemingly, nothing but time…but when you get to be my age, time is short, and you look back and see all you missed, all you wasted…” He paused, inhaling deeply before continuing. “And now, all of you have your own connections, love in your lives. I’m grateful for that too. And I know it’s far too much to ask of you, after everything, but I shall do so anyway as your mother said I should, but if you would allow me to participate in events such as this, and, perhaps, eventually, to get to know you again, to learn all the things I should already know…well, I would welcome the opportunity. Very much so.”   
And with that, he sat back down, arms crossed in front of him. What he’d said about the past walking with you in the present struck a chord with me, and I focused on that for the moment. It was still completely quiet, Tom’s hand now in mine, his eyes fixed on the floor, jaw clenched. Diana rose from her spot.  
“Well, what say we put presents under the tree?”  
Sarah got up so quickly that Ansh jumped, startled. “Great idea, Mum.”   
And then, as so many families do, we simply carried on as if none of it had ever happened.

****************************************  
Sarah and Ansh said goodnight first, reminding us that Sacchi would likely be up at a ridiculously early hour, which led to a mass exodus toward the second floor. There were hugs all around, but for James hanging back, and good tidings shared. After closing the door behind us, Tom half-jogged to the bed, sat down and rested his head in his hands. I walked to sit at his side, placing one hand on his lower back, then slowly circling, hoping to soothe.

“Maude. Did…I just…I really don’t know what to DO with all of this. I’m not even sure what I heard. This is…it’s…”

“Don’t put any pressure on yourself to do something right now. Take your time. Process it.” I snorted. “Said the woman who took an eternity to come to terms with her own familial bullshit.”

He lifted his head, a tiny smile upon his lips. “I adore you.”

“Of course you do.” I reached out with my free hand and cupped his chin, thumb gently stroking his stubbly cheek. “In all seriousness, though…how can I help? Do you need to vent? Rant?”

His head shook back and forth. “Not sure what I’d rant or vent about…too confused, because I just received an apology that I never saw coming nor ever imagined getting. I truly believed it would be about you, his reason for being here. But I think that might have been because of my own fear, that my father wouldn’t like you, that he wouldn’t approve of you, and it makes me sick to think that after all he’s done and all this time, that deep down, his opinion matters to me and I still crave his approval and his respect and his blessing and…and…” His voice broke as he began to sob. “And…and…his…lo…love.”

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him to my chest, and he wept upon my shoulder, uncontrollably, struggling to silence himself but unable to do so completely. Every time a gasp or muted wail escaped him I had to rein in a wince, as it reminded me of how both he had broken down in our hotel room in New Orleans and how I’d done the same at my mother’s house. This time, at least, I was fully present and able to offer him comfort. He clung to me as I stroked the back of his head and rocked him, and as he began to calm I whispered in his ear.

“I’m here. It’s okay, baby. I know. I know how it hurts. I understand. I love you.”

My sentiments were repeated until he spoke, his face buried in the crook of my neck. His voice was ragged, but soft. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you too.” 

Just as I opened my mouth to say for what seemed like the millionth time that he need not apologize I felt his own mouth open, teeth sinking into my flesh, lips pressing, followed by suction so powerful it made my toes curl. 

“Well hello there, Hiddleston. Damn. This is…unexpected. But please, do continue.”

He growled, fumbling with the hem of my sweater, working his hand inside to caress my left breast through the satin of my bra. Right after he began to pinch my hardened nipple, he pulled away from me, yanking his own sweater off over his head and blowing his nose in it. The snarky comment on my lips was suppressed by his tongue thrusting into my mouth as he guided me into a standing position. I bit down on it and he moaned, hips jutting forward and grinding against me. The kissing continued, sloppy and wet, a long string of saliva still connecting us when we finally came up for air and attempted to separate. Neither of us said a word, the only sound in the room the discordant noise of us removing our shoes and stripping off our clothes as quickly as humanly possible, flinging them everywhere. I looked away from my bra hooks for a moment to find him watching me, pupils blown, jaw clenched. My nether region did some clenching of its own as I completed the task at hand, spun the bra around on my index finger, then let it fly through the air to land on the dresser top. He remained where he was, and I strode toward him, biting my lip as I noticed his cock twitch. Leaning forward when I reached him, I blew on his chest hairs, the initial shiver intensifying as my tongue snaked out and circled his right nipple, then his left. When I added teeth, he pushed me up and off him, then walked me backwards to the bed. His voice was dripping with desire when he spoke, as was his cock.

“Hands and knees for me? On the bed?”

I nodded, mouth agape, panting at the thought of him taking me from behind. While there wasn’t a single position I didn’t like, doggy style was one of my favorites. Just a flash of what it always felt like, his hips slapping against my ass, was enough to cause a rush of wetness that began to trickle down my thighs. I turned and clambered onto the bed, scooting up far enough so he had room to join me, wiggling my own hips suggestively and peeking over my shoulder back at him. He was on me in a heartbeat, pulling my cheeks apart, one nimble finger dipping into me, then pulling out to circle my clit.

“The view from back here, woman. I wish you could see it, see yourself spread wide…open and ready. Ready for me. For my cock. Are you ready for my cock, Maude?”

I whimpered, quietly, I thought, but he heard me anyway. 

“Oh, I’m of a mind that you’re MORE than ready.” The head nudged my entrance. “Are you? More than ready? Have you reached the point of desperation? Is it driving you mad, feeling me so close but not where you need me to be most?”

With that I slammed backwards, taking him all in, and the sound he made was half scream, half moan and entirely too loud. He grabbed my hips and began thrusting, hard, fast, and grunting with every single re-entry. I felt his fingers intertwine with my hair, then tugging on it gently but firmly and holding my head in place. He slowed, regaining some semblance of control, which I snatched away by rolling my pelvis and pushing back against him, parrying his thrusts. The hand that had been in my hair disappeared and his arm wrapped around my chest, pulling me up and back, until my ass was resting on his thighs, my knees bent and spread wide, feet resting on either side of him. He ran his tongue up and down the back of my neck as he began to massage my clit, and I squealed. His response was a whisper, and his hot breath on my ear making me clench around him.

“Ride. Me.”

“Yep. Sounds good. Will do.”

I lifted myself off his cock slowly, then sank back down, then again, and again and again, my tempo increasing with each instance as I drew closer to orgasm. As it began he propelled us both forward again, me coming to rest on my elbows with my cheek pressed to the bed, him on top of me, body covering me like a blanket, holding himself up with one arm at first so he could continue playing with my clit, then shifting as the need for additional support arose when he came, hips jerking erratically, mouth open and lips on my shoulder, moaning and whimpering as he spent himself inside me, my walls squeezing and pulsing, leaving me without words, or thoughts, feeling nothing but the pleasure in that moment.

We remained as we were until our panting returned to simply breathing, his chin resting on my shoulder. Tom regained the power of speech first, which was not a single bit surprising.

“Sorry if the timing of that appears questionable. I just…I…”

I pushed myself up on my hands, and he lifted himself off me and rolled us over. I pulled away from him, his cock slipping out of me as I did so, then rolled again to face him, index finger tracing the line of his jaw.

“No need to say it. I understand what you ‘just’.” And I did, absolutely. Receiving comfort, wanting to lose your pain in pleasure, the desire for closeness, fulfilling that desire via the act that brings you as physically close to another human as you can possibly be, reminding yourself of what’s good, affirming that you love and are loved.

He reached out to bring me closer, and I buried my face in his neck, and he buried his in my hair, stroking my back as he murmured how much he loved me and I did the same. It seemed like we’d just fallen asleep when we heard Saachi screaming excitedly out in the hallway.

“It’s morning! It’s morning! Father Christmas came! And he left presents! PRESENTS FOR ME!”  
Tom and I donned our pajamas and robes, which I’d made sure to bring when he informed me that no one in the Hiddleston house dressed on Christmas day until it was time for dinner, which was actually lunch. No official breakfast, either, just chocolates and sweets and fruit and caffeinated beverages, which sounded acceptable to me. As we descended the stairs the smell of roasting turkey hit my nostrils and my stomach growled loudly. Tom snickered, and I punched him in the arm.

“It’s like, not even 6 AM yet, dude. How long has your mother been up?”

Diana’s voice sounded from below. “Birds went in the oven at 4:30.” She came into view as we reached the bottom few steps, standing in the living room doorway, wearing a Christmas apron over a fluffy green robe. “This lot is not exactly patient when it comes to food, sad to say. Happy Christmas, Maude. And you too, son of mine. Treats are all laid out…grab a handful and come on in and see what Father Christmas brought for our darling girl. Or our tiny whirling dervish, which is more fitting for today.”

We were the last ones down, everyone else seated either on one of the couches or on the floor, all pajama-clad. A group shout of ‘Happy Christmas’ ensued, and I felt like I was starring in the British version of A Christmas Story, which was amusing until I realized that I was the prime candidate for pulling a Ralphie and saying fuck. Tom and I sat on the couch facing the fireplace, next to Dave and Emma. Sarah and Ansh were on the floor, helping Saachi with her gifts, among which were puzzles, books, various stuffed creatures, and an iPad. Sarah noticed me staring at it, not realizing it was with awe.

“I know, I know…we’re going to limit screen time, but we just think there’s so much for her to learn…”

I blinked, slowly comprehending what her comment meant. “Oh, sorry, Sarah…not why I was gawking. I just really, really love the design of Apple stuff. It’s like high art…flawless, seamless, feels as if it’s an extension of you when you hold it.” Tom chuckled, and I elbowed him in the ribs. “The kid stuff…no clue. But I guess I need to GET a clue.”

Emma shrieked. “OH MY GOD, MAUDE, ARE YOU PREGNANT?”

My brain short-circuited, and I realized Tom hadn’t been kidding about them thinking that if I fainted, and he graciously jumped in to do damage control.

“Christ, Em. It’s too early for that decibel level. No, she’s not.” He turned to me, silently asking if I thought it acceptable to discuss our plans. Though it made me incredibly nervous, it being said out loud, and the fact that it would now be obvious if we weren’t successful, it was my own carelessness that had opened this particular can of worms, so I nodded for him to continue. “Or I should say, not yet. We’re going to start trying soon, once I’m done filming, most likely.” 

Within seconds I found myself being hugged and kissed by all of them in succession, with the exception of James, who simply said ‘jolly news’ but remained seated, drinking a glass of milk. Saachi rescued me by stating that all her Father Christmas gifts had been opened and now it was time to see what we’d all gotten for her. Tom went to the tree to retrieve our gifts, and she followed him back to the couch and climbed into his lap, tearing open the first one before she was fully seated. It was a giraffe-printed T-shirt with a cartoon giraffe on the front, munching on some leaves.   
“Oh, a giraffe! Look, Mummy!” She held the shirt up. “It’s beautiful!”  
Next came matching pants, sweatshirt, and sneakers. Tom saved the best for last, and when she removed the paper and saw a plain cardboard box she gazed up at him. “I do like boxes very much, Uncle Tommy. Thank you.”  
The room erupted in laughter, and I reached out to help her open it. When she saw what was inside she gasped, reached inside and pulled out the eighteen-inch high plush giraffe I’d found for her. Unlike most, its proportions were correct, which she noticed immediately. “Oh, he’s just like a REAL giraffe.” She turned to her parents. “I have my very own real-like giraffe. His name is Charlie, and we’re going to be best friends.” Snuggling him to her chest, which was adorable because he was so giant, she turned back to me. “Thank you, Auntie Maude. I love you now.” And with that, she hopped off Tom’s lap and onto mine, hugging me tightly, Charlie between us. As I returned the embrace, the fragility of her, the smallness, this little person, putting her trust in me was incredibly overwhelming and I found myself both struggling not to cry and beaming like an idiot.  
She left me soon after when Ansh said her iPad was ready to use, and the rest of us began to open our presents. There was no rhyme or reason to it, other than Diana matching gifts with each individual and piling them nearby. Tom and I were lost in our own little world, choosing to open our presents to each other before ones from family. He insisted that I go first, and I argued, but he smiled that smile and I had no choice but to give in.   
The first was a team Jersey, navy blue, and I wondered if he’d lost his fucking mind until I unfolded it and saw my name on the front left breast in white, with the number 31 smack in the center. The back was the same, but across the top over the number was ‘TEAM HIDDLESTON’. I stared at him, and he grinned.  
“That’s your team jersey. We’ve all got one. The number is…”  
“My birthday.”  
He nodded. “Yes. Your birthday.”  
“All the swear words.”  
His head tilted. “What?”  
I raised my left hand, palm towards him. “That’s me using profanity without using profanity.”  
“Oh, I like that. Here, do this one next.” He handed me large, flat object, heavier than I expected. I removed the wrapping, and realized it was a frame. Inside was a poster. A movie poster. The Matrix. One of my very favorite films. And when I finally really LOOKED at it, I noticed that there were signatures. Three of them. Keanu Reeves, Carrie-Anne Moss, and Laurence Fishburne.   
“Thomas. Are these real? They can’t be real. Are they REAL?”  
He nodded again, chuckling and licking his lips.  
“ALL THE SWEAR WORDS TIMES A MILLION. How did you…my god, this is AMAZING. You are amazing. Thank you. Wow. I cannot EVEN.”  
There was one more for me, a small item, the size and shape of a CD case. I peeled back the paper, and there I was, mid-song, from Hawaii karaoke. Down at the bottom was my name, with the words ‘Back to Black’ under it, and a logo. Skrillex. My mouth dropped open. “Dude. What. Is. This.”  
“That’s you. From Kauai, doing Back to Black. Remastered by Skrillex. If you’ll look at the back you’ll see he did a remix for you as well.”  
“NO HE DID NOT.”  
Tom laughed. “Oh yes he did. Shall we listen to it now?”  
I threw my arms around him. “Hiddleston, you are so thoughtful and kind and sweet and I love you, you bastard.” He hugged me back, and I pulled away. “But no, we’ll listen to it later. You have to open your stuff now. Plus I don’t think I want present company to hear me singing about a dude keeping his dick wet.”  
“Excellent point. In addition, your voice does things to me…”  
“Yes. Duly noted. Later. Anyway. Open the giant box first.”  
I’d put all the Jurassic Park toys inside a single box, because I felt if he saw one it would be like he’d seen them all and let’s face it, there’s nothing quite like a box full of toys just waiting for you to love them. He peeled back the paper, popped the tape, lifted the flaps and the expression he wore when he realized what was inside filled me with such joy I thought I’d burst. He turned to me in disbelief.  
“How did you…where did you…are these really…” He removed the electronic T-Rex from the box. “IT IS. ORIGINAL.” The rest followed suit quickly, and he placed them gently on the floor after giving them the once-over, alternating between grinning, giggling, and shaking his head. “Maude. It’s like I’m a kid again. On Christmas. This is incredible. Thank you.” With that, he kissed me, and it went on long enough for Sarah to feel the need to tell us to get a room already.  
We laughed, blushing, and I decided to fess up. “I can’t take all the credit, you know. Your mom made me a list of what she could remember you having. All I did was find the stuff on eBay.”  
He pinched my cheek. “Yes, but you’re the one who thought to do it.” He glanced at Diana. “Thanks, Mum. You’re becoming a regular Sneaky Pete, aren’t you?” She nodded, and I pointed to the other box, smaller than the first.   
“Dude, open it. I can’t stand waiting another second.”  
Of course he removed the paper at a snail’s pace just to torture me, and then pretended to not know how to get the lid off properly. His face lit up like a thousand suns when he saw the fedora.  
“My very own Indiana Jones fedora. I hope you realize I’m going to where this everywhere we go forever and ever from this day forward.” As he lifted it out of the box with the intent of putting it on, I figured I should draw his attention to what he was actually holding. I reached out and grabbed his wrist.  
“You might want to take a gander at the inside before you wear it.”  
His puzzled gaze met my mildly impatient one, and he flipped it over.  
“My god. Oh my god. OH. MY. GOD.” He stood, hat in his hand, his last comment so loud that everyone was staring at him. Emma snorted.  
“Tom. It’s a hat. It’s lovely. Pipe down, won’t you?”  
Tom shook his head. “It’s not just a hat. It’s a fedora signed by Harrison Ford. Indiana Jones.”  
I tugged on his robe but he didn’t notice, so I stood, pausing to pull out a framed letter I’d hidden under extra tissue paper in the bottom of the box. He read it quickly, and when I saw his Adam’s apple bob I knew he was holding back a sob. A deep breath followed, then he spoke.  
“It’s a note from Harrison. It says ‘Tom – Steve told me how much Indy means to you, but what really sold me was the story from your fiancée about you cutting off your sister’s braid and using it as a bullwhip. Here’s a hat. Wore it for the Last Crusade. You do good work, kid. Keep it up and you might be able to buy a real, actual bullwhip someday. – Harrison’.”  
He sat back down, hat in one hand, frame in the other, staring at them both as his siblings and their significant others came over to get a better look. I sat as well, and as I did so he looked up at me.  
“You did this. For me. How? How did you pull this off? I would have never expected this, for him to send one of the fedoras he actually wore. I…my god…my mind. So completely, utterly blown.”  
I grinned. “I am tenacious and don’t take no for an answer.” He laughed. “Actually, I had lots of help. Friend here, client there, Steven Spielberg, and here we are. You like it, then?”  
“It’s the best present…and it has a deeper meaning than me just being a huge fan, because of how we met, and what I said, and…I love you.”  
My grin widened and I patted him on the shoulder. “I know.”  
He roared, catching on to my Star Wars reference, and I joined in, Saachi finally looking up from her iPad to comment.   
“I want a funny hat next year, please.”  
Everyone laughed at that, and once the giddiness wore off it was back to the matter at hand. We’d gotten Diana a set of eight mugs, two tote bags and four T-shirts with her art printed on them, which she marveled at and said she finally felt like she might actually be a genuine artist. For Em and Dave we’d purchased a couples spa weekend, and for Sarah and Ansh we’d arranged for a date night out to see a show and spend the night at a five-star hotel in London, grandma set as the babysitter.   
Diana put together a beautiful photo album that included pictures of Tom as a child, as well as other family shots for us, and she’d done a painting on canvas of Tom and I on the red carpet at the Cube gallery. And, as predicted, there was my Christmas sweater, bright blue with snowmen on the front. It was actually kind of cute, and I thought it might even be fun to put it on our first married people Christmas cards next year. Then I shook my head and decided I was going insane and that I needed some more tea immediately. Before I had a chance to get up go grab it, Diana handed me a thick greeting card envelope.  
“Here, love. This one’s from me, Emma and Sarah. Technically for you and Tom, but mainly for you.”  
I opened it slowly, reading the brochure and the open-ended tickets and where to call to book dates, not quite understanding what I was looking at straight away. It was something I’d never thought of, never would have thought of on my own, but wished I had and was grateful someone else had done it for me. They’d arranged for a week-long vacation for us at the Fitzpatrick Castle Hotel. Which was in Ireland. In Dalkey, Ireland, to be exact. Where my father had been born and lived until he met my mother and moved to the US. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. The idea of seeing where he’d grown up, walking the streets he’d walked, visiting the bar his family owned…MY family owned? I didn’t know. He’d cut all ties with them, likely at my mother’s insistence, and that’s all I knew. Did he have siblings? Were his parents still alive? He never spoke of family, not once that I could recall. I’d been so angry, so hurt, that it never occurred to me that they could be out there somewhere in the world. And that they were my family, too. Which led me to the next step…what of my mother’s family? They knew there was a child, that I existed, both sides, but did they know it was…me? Suddenly, and much to my surprise, I felt compelled to find out.  
Diana was standing in front of me still, her face full of concern as I looked up at her.  
“Maude, if that was too forward of us, I’m terribly sorry…we just thought you might want to, since you’re close by now…”  
I passed the papers to Tom, who had been reading them over my shoulder, stood, and wrapped my arms around Diana, a muted ‘thank you’ spilling from my lips before I began to weep. Sarah and Emma made it a group hug, and I realized that while it would be wonderful to have my questions answered, it would be icing on the cake, as they say, because I’d already been blessed with a family, the people right there in that room, who had opened their lives and their hearts to me, because I loved their brother, their son, and he loved me. And what a miracle that was, especially on a day made for such things.


	40. Chapter 40

We wound up staying at Diana’s until Sunday, then headed home to the chaos that awaited us. My gift for Tom had been well received, the shades of red he’d turned much like watching a tomato ripening in a time lapse video. We decide to wait until he was done filming to have our playtime, hoping things would be a smidge less stressful and that we’d actually have plenty of time to just fuck around. Literally, as the case happened to be. He’d given me a leather lingerie set, complete with crotch-less panties and a corset that I knew would turn my boobs into a squishy shelf…but the best part was the policeman-style cap, which I’d been wearing around the house to torment him.  
Monday was spent in the office with Trudy, testing and testing and testing again, over and over, until any bugs we’d found were worked out. As far as we could discern, we were ready to roll. After the security company was done installing everything on Tuesday, it was time to go live with the group of 50 we’d chosen as beta testers. Luke, who’d left at noon with Simon to take care of the final wedding prep tasks, texted me more than two dozen times to express his amazement as he delved into Manageall’s features before, I assumed, Simon took his phone away from him. Radio silence ensued until midnight, when Simon came knocking at the door in a full blown panic because he wasn’t certain his shoes were the same shade of white as his suit. It took me more than an hour to convince him that they were, in fact, the same, and he wrapped me in a grateful embrace and finally left me to get some rest, Tom already in bed and snoring.  
The office was officially closed for the next five days, so on Wednesday, when I wasn’t practicing singing, I pretended to not be working while I was actually working until it was time for the quiet dinner we’d planned at Luke and Simon’s. It was just the four of us, plus Roland, who was an absolute delight. We bonded over movies, music and tech and as we were leaving he gave me a tentative hug, blushing furiously afterward, Simon whispering in my ear shortly thereafter that it looked like SOMEONE had a quickly developed a wicked crush on me.   
New Year’s Eve dawned crisp and clear, and Simon and I took a late-afternoon cab ride to Searcys so we could check in and make sure everything was exactly as it should be. We entered the Gherkin, and he grabbed my hand as we got into the elevator, his skin clammy.  
“This is happening. It’s happening. I can’t believe it. It’s incredible. I’m so…happy. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”  
I laughed. “You’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be fine. Fine.”  
His eyes narrowed. “If that was your attempt at assuaging my nerves…LAME. SO LAME.”  
“You think you’re the only one with nerves? I cannot, for the life of me, get the last part of the song right. Because I am not Nina Simone. My scatting SUCKS. SO HARD.”  
He released my hand in order to poke me in the shoulder. “I AM GETTING MARRIED AND YOU ARE COMPARING YOUR NERVES WITH MINE?”  
“Actually I’m trying to distract you, asshat. Not working, is it?”  
“No. Do you have any booze?”  
The elevator doors opened, and as we stepped into the room he burst into tears. The round tables were all in place, forming a ring around the room with the center reserved for dancing, with an open spot on the far side of the room where the DJ had begun setting up. They were covered in charcoal grey cloths that matched the gentlemen of the wedding party’s suits, peppered with silver stars, glossy black circular Lucite slabs resting atop them. The centerpieces were twelve silver cylinders arranged in a ring, each with two white roses wound together in them, symbolizing midnight and two becoming one. Which was, you know, a totally minor detail that everyone would be too drunk to care about, but Simon had been so pleased with himself at coming up with the idea I knew he’d be pointing it out all evening and it was my duty as his maid of honor to fill in when he was too sloshed to speak any longer. The chairs, eight per table, were glossy black as well, the napkins gleaming white, the clear glassware and silver flatware smooth and unmarked. Above us was a net of white fairy lights that formed an artificial ceiling several feet below the pointed top of the room, and the floor was black stone, rectangular tiles shined to perfection, my reflection staring back at me when I glanced downward.  
“Maude, Maude, it’s…it’s…I just…” He fanned his face with both hands. “Crying is bad. So bad. I can’t start off the evening looking like a puffy, splotchy nightmare.” Several deep, cleansing breaths later he was back in control, walking the room in search of imperfections. The sun had nearly set, and as we looked out the windows the city lights began to come on in quick succession, and the skyline was even more beautiful that it was during the daylight hours. As we drew closer to the DJ, the staff erected a rectangular table that would hold the cake and champagne fountain, the spot directly in front of it marked with an 18” silver star, indicating where the vow exchange was to take place. A voice sounded from behind us.  
“A bit early, aren’t you, Simon?”  
Turning around, I was stunned by the familiarity of the face in front of me. Her hair was dirty blonde, down past her shoulders, eyes a warm brown, smile welcoming and friendly. Dressed in loose black slacks and a black turtleneck paired with sensible black flats, I was tickled by the silver star-shaped earrings and chain belt she’s chosen to match the theme of the event. Around her neck was a black leather camera strap, the Nikon D5 it connected to in her right hand. Simon squeaked, then gave her a gentle hug, introducing us after pulling away.  
“Maude Gallagher, meet Willa Morgan, high-end fashion photographer whom I suckered into shooting a wedding and now owe a huge favor that I will likely never be able to repay. Willa, meet Maude, Social Media Director for Prosper PR and my bestest friend whom I suckered into being my maid of honor which I’m sure she regrets and will hold against me for-ev-er.”  
We both laughed, and I extended my left hand, which she shook firmly.  
“Lovely to meet you, Maude.”  
“Lovely to meet you as well, Willa.”  
Her smile faded as she released me, replaced with a look of intense concentration. “Would you two mind standing on the star there so I can gauge some angles?”  
We obliged, goofing around and pretending to make out while the poor woman attempted to do her job, eventually giving up on us, shaking her head as she laughed and set about acquiring shots of the rest of the set-up. I whispered in Simon’s ear as we moved to make room for the fountain assembly dolly.  
“Um, is it just me or does Willa look EXACTLY like Brie Larson?”  
He stared at her in the distance, then turned to me, eyes wide. “You know, I never thought about it before, but she really DOES. I wonder if I have a Doppelganger.” His nose crinkled as if he’d caught whiff of something vile. “Nah, there can’t be anyone out there as pretty as I am.”  
It was going on six when we departed, waiting until every little thing was in place, right down to the wedding favors, which were silver mesh bags containing black and white M&Ms with Luke and Simon’s faces on them. I would never forget the day we texted about it, both of us rendered unable to correspond for at least ten minutes after Simon suggested having a special batch made up with dick pics on them for any guests who annoyed him.  
Upon my return to our building I was thrown without pause into the chaos that surrounds any wedding party preparing for the celebration. I would be joined at Simon’s side by Roland and Phaedra, who was thrilled that she was so loved that she’d been included as a friend and wasn’t stuck sitting out as the mother of the groom. Luke had Tom, as well as Emma and Darren, his best mate from university. I hadn’t realized how close he and Emma were, but she and Tom had both followed him over to his own firm for personal reasons as well as professional ones. Emma and Phaedra’s dresses, both still hanging on the rack in the hall, were dove grey, with a halter-like top, almost a V-neck with the sleeves removed, leaving only a ribbon of fabric over each clavicle and connecting with the bodice, shoulders fully exposed. They were, in a way, the reverse of my dress. The waist was high, an under-slip of satin topped with translucent silky fabric flowing to ankle length. When I entered our flat my female cohorts were standing in the middle of the living room, clad in white terry-cloth robes, waiting for the make-up and hair team to ready their materials. Emma ran to embrace me.  
“Maude! Hi hi hi! It’s been a bit, how are you? So great to see you!”  
I squeezed her back, letting go and pulling away when one of the make-us-beautiful people thrust another white robe in my direction. “I’m good, how’s everything with you?”  
Her nose scrunched, and she bit her bottom lip briefly. “Well, I’m starting to stress, if I’m honest. The benefit is seventeen days out and I’m still waiting on confirmation from people as to what songs…”  
I interrupted her. “Aaaannndd I’m one of those people. Shit. Sorry. Gonna speak for Simon too, because he’ll never remember to tell you. I’m doing ‘Before I’m Dead’ by the Kidney Thieves, Simon’s doing Nirvana’s ‘Heart Shaped Box’ and together we’re attempting ‘Crystalized’ by the xx. Here, I’ll text you that right now. Do you need the durations? I can send you the files too if you want.”  
She brushed the side of her hand across her forehead. “Phew. Thanks, that’s one down. Please, do send the files if you have them. I’ll check the length myself. And thank you for being willing to do it…I feel so blessed to be surrounded by such generous people. Ohhh…by the way, I’ve seen the app and it is INCREDIBLE. Can’t wait to use it...” She sighed as one of the hairdressers called her name, then smiled. “Oh well. We’ll get to chat in the car on the way, I’m sure.”  
A snort escaped me as I typed out a message for her. “Like Simon’s going to let any of us get a word in edgewise.”  
We both laughed, and Phaedra looked up from her own phone, waving as I headed to the bathroom to undress. Once my robe was safely secured over my nakedness, I opened the door to find one Thomas William Hiddleston standing five feet away, already dressed for the evening in his charcoal grey suit, white shirt, silver tie, cummerbund and pocket square. He smiled, and I first melted at the sheer beauty of him, then had a mild panic attack when I realized that the six months until I’d see him dressed for our wedding seemed both like a second and an eternity all at once.   
He waved. “Hi.”  
I waved back. “Hi. You look like…like…like you should come on over here and kiss me.”  
His head shook from side to side, slowly. “That’s a terrible idea.”  
“Is it?”  
He nodded. “Yes. Because I know what’s under that robe. And if I get any closer…”  
Raising my hands up near my ears carefully, I began to move backwards into the bathroom. “Right. Okay. Yep. But you know the dress is kinda…worse…”  
He saluted, body tensing visibly. “Well I’m off then. Love you.”  
“Love you too. One word. Pasties.”  
His response was but a muffled groan as he strode quickly into the hall. I was whisked away to a director’s chair, where Marcus sung the praises of my hair and tamed it enough so it could be left down and loose. Emma’s had been pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck, Phaedra’s braided and wound around her head, creating a band of sorts. They were both in the middle of a pre-makeup facial, which I had no interest in receiving but quickly discovered wasn’t optional. After I was deemed clean, fresh and acceptable, foundation was applied, then silver crème and smoky grey shadow, black winged liner, and black mascara. My lips took the longest, first lined with a deep, dark red, then carefully painted blood red, and finally coated with a several layers of silver glitter gloss. I stood and stretched, arms straight up over my head, sighing softly as I lowered them back to my sides. An older woman approached me, black hair, rail thin, dressed in pink yoga pants and a black and white fitted T-shirt with a giant Hello Kitty on the front. There was a large brown satchel over her shoulder, and a garment bag slung over her outstretched arm. She smiled beatifically.  
“Hello, Maude. I’m Gillian. Ready for your dress?”  
“Yes. Yes I am. Thank you. Where would you like me?”  
Her steel-blue eyes narrowed for a moment. “Well, we’ll need a private space, unless you don’t mind…”  
My left hand shot up to shoulder height, palm toward her. “I’ve managed to make it this far without anyone in the room seeing my boobs…let’s keep the streak alive and head up to the master bedroom, if that works for you.”  
She nodded, and I led the way, allowing her to enter the space first, then followed, closing the door behind us.  
“Lovely flat you have here, Maude.” She placed the garment bag on the bed, ever so gently, and the utter weirdness of having a stranger in a place where so much intimacy happened made me cringe. Just a little, but still…a cringe. Gillian set her satchel on the chair and began rummaging through it, pulling out a small package and a bottle of what I knew had to be body glue. She looked around, pointing toward the bathroom.  
“Probably best if we apply the pasties in there…oh, I almost forgot…” Her hand delved back into her bag, neon pink nails seeming to flash as she moved. “Ah, here they are. I have panty options for you as well, in case you need them.”  
“Thank you, Gillian. I think I do need them…all my stuff is either dark or patterned.”  
She walked into the bathroom, hot-pink Mary Janes clicking on the floor, and I followed. She spread everything out on the countertop…first came the half dozen pasties, all different shades, but all circular with a silver star that matched the dress perfectly in the center. Next to them she plopped a pile of fabric, the details as yet indiscernible, but there was a variation of tone there as well.  
Her hands clapped together. “All right then…set your robe aside and we’ll get to work, if you please.”  
I undid the tie, let the front hang open, then pulled my arms back through the sleeves and let it fall to the floor. She looked me up and down.  
“Oh good, I believe I’ve gotten your sizing just right. And, you wax. Thank the lord for small favors.” I could feel my right brow rise against my will. She laughed. “No shade intended, but gals who prefer the au naturel look make it a bit harder for me to conceal the works without them wearing boxer briefs. With the style dress you have, it has a tendency to ruin the illusion, if you know what I mean.”  
“I understand completely.”  
She sifted through the pile and held up something that could only be described as a high-waisted thong. I took a moment to consider whether or not I was okay with my ass cheeks hanging out, then quickly shook my head. Next was a simple brief, and I nodded.  
“Excellent choice. They’re form fitting and will be rather snug, which should be just fine with your shape. I don’t see much chance of spill-over happening. Now, let’s see which tone matches your skin best.”  
Once that decision was made, I put them on…and she wasn’t kidding about the snugness. They were, like, snug to the tenth power snug. But, just as she thought, the band sat right at my waist and thus, there was no muffin-top to be found. She walked around me, checking out the rear view, nodding as she circled back to my front.  
“Perfect. They match so well it looks like you aren’t wearing a blessed thing.”  
The pasties came next, in the same shade. I stayed behind when she left the room, figuring peeing before putting on the dress was better than going afterward, because with my luck I’d dip it in the bowl and this way I’d at least make it to Searcys in decent shape. Probably. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way back to the bedroom, I decided I most closely resembled an extra from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which started me singing the Time Warp under my breath. Gillian was cautiously removing my dress from its bag, and when she lifted her head to smirk at me I knew she’d heard me.  
“Oh, that’s a classic, Maude. Well done. You should request it tonight.”  
I chuckled. “That is an excellent idea. What’s a wedding without a good pelvic thrust session?”  
We both laughed as I stepped into the dress, then slowly worked my arms into the sleeves. Gillian zipped me up, inhaling sharply as she walked round to my front.  
“Gorgeous. My word. Futuristic, yet ethereal. Stunning.”  
I walked over to the bedroom mirror to take a look, my reflection’s jaw dropping open. The transformative power of a bit of makeup and some fabric never ceased to amaze me.   
“Wow, it really DOES look like I’m totally naked. Great job matching the tones, Gillian. Perfection.”  
She’d begun gathering her things, stuffing them all unceremoniously back into the satchel. “Thank you kindly. Do you need help with your shoes?”  
“Well…probably not…but if you have time…”  
She nodded and retrieved them from their box on the dresser. They bore some resemblance to dance shoes, with a two and a half inch spike heel and thick sole in the rounded toe area, two half-inch straps across the top, thoroughly coated in large pieces of silver glitter that matched the stars on my dress perfectly. I remained standing with one hand on the bedpost to maintain my balance as she slipped them on and secured the straps.  
“There you are, then. Take a few steps and make sure the straps aren’t too tight.”  
I did, heels clicking on the floor, then turned back to her. “Just right. Danceable, even. Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome. Let’s get you downstairs….it’s just about nine and the car needs to be en route by ten after at the latest. New Year’s Eve traffic is hellish, I assure you.”  
Phaedra and Emma were waiting in the living room, and they applauded as I descended, both unable to resist the urge to fondle the fabric when I reached them. Emma’s eyes widened when she realized that I didn’t have a full netting underneath, as most sane people would.  
“Maude, my lord, those…are those…the stars on your…”  
Nodding, I reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “My boobs. Yes. Pasties.” She blushed, and Phaedra sighed.  
“Oh, how I miss having breasts that don’t point directly at the floor. Enjoy them, girls, while you still can. The day will come when you have to be cautious lest you light them on fire whilst preparing a meal.”  
Emma’s blush deepened. “Phaedrea, oh my god. You’re horrid.”  
I did my best to suppress my laughter, but to no avail, and Phaedra joined in. “I speak the truth, Emma. It’s your future. Best embrace it.”  
We were interrupted by Simon shouting as he traipsed through the open door.  
“LADIES. OUR CARRIAGE HAS ARRIVED. WE MUST LEAVE AT ONCE FOR THE BALL.”  
He stood by the kitchen counter, waiting, and I shook my head, incredulous at how absolutely perfect he appeared. Like he’d sprung up from the pages of an elite fashion magazine, his blonde hair slicked back, white suit practically glowing, and when he smiled, I damn near lost my shit.  
“Dude. Simon. Dude. Seriously. My god. You’re like an…you look like…like…like an ANGEL. I mean, I know you’re NOT because, reasons, but WOW.”  
Four steps forward brought him to me, and he kissed both my cheeks, then took my hands as he leaned back to inspect my attire. “You’re looking rather heaven-sent yourself, Maudie. And thank you. I do look damn fine, don’t I?” He kissed Emma and Phaedra next, expressing his appreciation for their beauty as well, and then we were out the door and down the stairs. Since the ceremony wasn’t until midnight there was no way to hide Luke and Simon from each other, so we’d decided to all share a single stretch limousine. Tom’s expression as he watched me approach him stirred up a slew of emotions in me, running the gamut from mild embarrassment to blatant desire, his unwavering stare seeming to bore right through the little I was wearing. As I drew closer his eyes filled with tears, his jaw unclenching as he smiled and reached for my hand.  
“You. Are. So. Beautiful.”  
I took hold of him, leaning in to catch his scent as we neared the limo.   
“Oh good god, you’re wearing that new cologne again. That little hint of sandalwood mixed with orange…how am I supposed to LIVE?” He chuckled. “And thank you. You’re beautiful too, babe.”  
He kissed my cheek as he helped me climb inside. “It’s going to be a long, long night, isn’t it?”  
I nodded as I slid over next to Phaedra to make room for him just as Simon cracked open the first bottle of champagne.  
“Oh yeah. I hope you have your phone, because I need to capture all this insanity so I can show it to their kids twenty years from now. Preferably right after they give them a lecture about how partying is so very, very inappropriate and bad for them.”  
***************************************  
It was five after ten when we arrived at Searcys, and the elevator ride up was unusually quiet, Simon and Luke clinging to each other and nervously adjusting each other’s lapels and white rose boutonnieres. Phaedra, Emma and I wore wrist corsages comprised of black netting and two intertwined white roses secured with silver ribbon, for which I was grateful. Schlepping around flowers and trying to have a good time while keeping them looking decent sounded like a total drag. Tom and I held hands, loosely, purely for the purpose of maintaining a physical connection. My nerves were still ever present, despite the fact that I’d sung in front of groups larger than this in the past. To be fair, I’d been intoxicated for most of those shows, though. Tonight, I’d try to lose myself in tasty tidbits and pretend that it was just a friendly karaoke bar, not someone’s once-in-a-lifetime moment. The doors slid open, and there we were, walking into a space that was positively overflowing with love for two people who deserved every single drop of it.   
We were whisked away for photos, Willa directing us around the room, deciding who would be in which shots, carefully selecting the perfect backdrops. Once she was through with us, the hors d'oeuvres  
stopped circulating and it was time for the seven course sit-down meal to begin. The wedding party was seated closest to the windows on the left side of the room, set back a few feet from the others. It was odd, eating prior to a ceremony, a backwards wedding of sorts, but the food was ridiculously delicious and the company unparalled so time seemed to speed on by. A sorbet was served as a palate cleanser after the main course, and at quarter to midnight we rose from our spots and retreated back toward the entrance where the hair and makeup folks were waiting behind oriental-style screens. Luke and Simon had timed their vows to last for five minutes, so the refresh was brief, followed by us all taking our places for the walk across the dance floor to the silver star marker. Phaedra and Darren walked first, followed by Roland and Emma, then Tom and me. Once we were on the proper sides, the wedding march began, and I had to bite my lip really, really hard so I wouldn’t weep at the sight of Luke and Simon walking towards us, hand in hand, their love for each other so clearly visible in their eyes, their expressions so joyful it was almost painful. They took their places on the star, Willa shooting discreetly yet furiously the entire time, and the officiant began. I missed most of that, only tuning in fully when the vow exchange began. Luke went first, his hand shaking as his right reached out for Simon’s left. His voice was clear, deep, and strong.  
“Simon, that day you turned up for an interview…I thought that was the best day of my life. But it wasn’t, actually, because every day since that day has been the best day of my life. You’ve reminded me that there’s so much more to life than striving toward the next slot in the chain of financial success, shown me that joy can be found in even the smallest and bleakest moments. And, you’ve improved my wardrobe in ways I never could have imagined.”  
Everyone laughed, and Simon reached up to pat Luke’s cheek.  
“Over and above all that, you’ve taught me how to love, and how to love unconditionally. You are the man I dreamt of but never thought I’d ever find. My lover, my friend. It’s my honor to have you as my husband, and to be yours. From this day forward, it’s us, together, always. I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Luke Windsor, do take thee, Simon Ahlberg, to be my lawful wedded husband. Will you accept this ring as a symbol of my commitment to you, to us?”  
Simon’s voice broke as he answered. “Yes. I, Simon Ahlberg, take thee, Luke Windsor to be my wedded husband.” Luke slipped the platinum band onto his ring finger, then released him. Simon’s right hand reached out to take Luke’s left, and one incredibly deep breath later he began to speak.  
“Luke. That day, when I walked into your office, I was on a mission. A mission to fundamentally change the way I was living. I was burnt out, used up, and in search of something new, something different, something that would inspire me, something that would make me wake up every morning excited and full of wonder. I thought that something would be an occupation, because that’s what filled my life before, but it turned out to be…you. Especially the waking up excited part.” Snickers and guffaws rose up around the room. “It was YOU. And I am the luckiest man, not only on Earth, but in the vastness of the universe, because I have you. Because you love me. ME! It’s ridiculously cliché, but Luke, you make me want to be a better man…and it’s my honor and privilege to share your life from this day forward as your husband. I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Simon Ahlberg, do take thee, Luke Windsor, to be my lawful wedded husband. Will you accept this ring as a symbol of my commitment to you, to us?”   
Both of their faces were damp with tears, and Luke swallowed hard twice before he responded. “Yes. Yes, yes, YES. I, Luke Windsor, take thee, Simon Ahlberg to be my wedded husband.”  
Simon gently slid the platinum band, a twin of the one he now wore, onto Luke’s ring finger, then reached out to grasp Luke’s right hand with his left. The DJ began the ten second countdown to midnight, and the officiant spoke.  
“Let it be known that these two men before me, and before all persons present, have, through their vows, declared themselves bound in matrimony. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you…the Windsor-Ahlbergs!”  
With that the clock struck midnight, Simon and Luke kissed, and congratulatory cheers mixed with shouts of ‘Happy New Year’ rang out. Tom was in front of me before the DJ could even begin to play Auld Lang Syne, his hands on the sides of my face as he bent so we were eye to eye.  
“This is it. 2016. Soon enough, we’ll be saying our own vows, exchanging rings and I…I…I’m so in love with you, Maude. Happy New Year.”  
His lips met mine, his hands wound around my waist, and mine around his, as we swayed to the music and I realized that I’d honestly never fully comprehended what it was supposed to mean, that New Year’s midnight kiss. Because any I’d ever received before hadn’t meant anything to me when compared to the way I felt right then, in that moment. We broke the kiss as the song ended, and the DJ’s voice boomed loudly through the sound system’s speakers.  
“HAPPY NEW YEAR PEOPLE!” A round of cheering broke out again, and the DJ laughed. “All right, all right, you’re excited. Before we party, two things to take care of…the cutting of the cake by our happy couple, and…their first dance. We’re going to do the dance first, because you know someone’s going to get cake smeared all over them and that’s not a good look for the photo album, now is it? Luke and Simon have chosen ‘Feeling Good’ as their wedding song, and it will be performed by none other than maid-of-honor MAUDE GALLAGHER. Give the lady a hand!”  
The applause was ridiculously loud, and I looked up at Tom, shouting over the din. “Happy New Year, you beautiful man. I love you. I’m probably going to die of embarrassment when I get to the scatting part, but…I love you.”  
He kissed my forehead as he released me. “You’ll be amazing. Go. Do it. I’ll be right here, falling for you all over again.”  
My head tilted to the left, mouth open, eyes narrowed. “Dude. I can’t even with you.” I planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” And then, a microphone magically appeared in my hand, and there I was, standing on that silver star, with Luke and Simon staring at me from the center of the dance floor. And so I dove into the first verse acapella, the way Nina Simone had done it all those years ago.  
Birds flyin' high, you know how I feel  
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel  
Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel  
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me.  
Yeah, it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, ooooooooh...  
And I'm feelin' good.

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel  
River runnin' free, you know how I feel  
Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel  
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me,  
And I'm feelin' good

Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know,  
Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean.  
Sleep in peace when day is done: that's what I mean,  
And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me...

Stars when you shine, you know how I feel  
Scent of the pine, you know how I feel  
Yeah, freedom is mine, and I know how I feel..  
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me  
And I'm feelin'... good.   
The scatting was actually decent, and I knew that what I’d just completed was a personal best for me as far as performances went, and would probably turn out to be the best performance of my life. And it had little to do with me, at all. It was because of the two people running toward me, embracing me, and the love they had for each other that had set them free. And I knew how that felt, and that’s what poured up out of my soul, what powered my voice as I sang those words. Tom joined the group hug, then pulled me away from Simon and Luke.  
“My god, that was incredible. You…I just…wow. Wow. Speechless.”  
I grinned and pinched his cheek. “Oh, speechless. The best compliment Tom Hiddleston can possibly pay.”  
He laughed, and the DJ announced that the time had come for cake chaos. Simon went first, and I was stunned when he held the piece steady and allowed Luke to take a dainty, mess-free bite. Luke’s full on face-smooshing smear fest when it was his turn was equally surprising…and insanely adorable, especially when he tried to help wipe it off and Simon kissed him instead. I turned to Tom.  
“Two things. One, if you try to do that to me I’m going to bite your hand off and two, this is all so precious and perfect that I may soon vomit. Will cake help, do you think?”  
He nodded. “Cake always helps. And then, dancing?”  
“Yes. Cake. Dancing. More cake. More dancing. Repeat as necessary until the paramedics show up to treat either my sugar overdose or painful bodily injury.”  
And that’s exactly what we did, until 4 AM rolled around and we staggered to the elevator, then out to the waiting car. Simon and Luke had taken their own to a nearby hotel, where they’d stay until late afternoon tomorrow, when they’d be boarding a plane to enjoy their five day honeymoon in Greece. Phaedra had agreed to see Roland home, and shared a car with Emma and Darren as they were all headed in the same direction, which left Tom and I to our own devices. He wasn’t blotto drunk, but drunk enough to be a terror as far as propriety was concerned, fingers running up and down the V front of my dress, caressing my exposed skin, hand slipping under the fabric to cup my right breast, letting out a frustrated groan because my nipple was hidden beneath the pastie. There was no privacy screen, and I gave up caring that the driver might see, or that he might crash while staring at our antics, instead pulling Tom into a kiss, his mouth tasting of whiskey and ale. Making out was enough of a distraction to get us home without actually exposing ourselves, and when we arrived he ran up the stairs to our flat, taking them two at a time, waited for me for ten seconds, then ran back down, then back up, over and over until I managed to successfully navigate my way to the landing in my stupid heels. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get the key in the door, so I took over, and he pushed me inside as it opened, turned me left into the kitchen, then pressed me up against the counter overlooking the living room. I felt his hands lifting my dress, then on my lower back as he guided me to lean forward. Next were his thumbs inside the waistband of my underwear, rolling them down to my ankles. I heard him unzip, and I moved my legs as far apart as they could go, groaning as the head of him brushed against me before he thrust himself forward and home. It was quick and dirty, his hips rolling as his cock worked its way in and out, faster and faster until I came with a gasp and he followed, whimpering softly, then collapsing on top of me. Several minutes passed and just as I began to entertain the thought that he was out cold he whispered in my ear, voice lacking its usual resonance.  
“I’m so sleepy. Will you tuck me in?”  
“Yep. You’ve gotta get off me first, though.”  
“Ohhhh. That’s right. I’m sorry.” I felt his weight lifting, then disappearing completely. I turned around to find him staring at me, eyes moist. “You’re beautiful.”  
I snorted, then bent to remove my shoes so I could slip out of my underwear. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”  
He turned me around slowly, unzipped my dress, then slid it off my shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor. I rotated to face him, and he pulled me into an embrace and nuzzled my neck.   
“Wife.”  
“Soon.”  
“Since I saw you.”  
I inhaled sharply. “Thomas.”  
“Love you.”  
“I love you too, baby. Let’s go upstairs, okay?”  
“M’kay.”  
I made him go first, just in case. Not that I’d have been able to catch him if anything happened, but it made me feel better. I helped him undress, then tucked him in, as requested, kissing him goodnight before I headed off to shower. The pasties came off rather quickly, the makeup, not so much. Especially the glitter gloss, which made me grateful I didn’t have to deal with such shit on a daily basis. I toweled off, used the toilet one last time, then crawled in next to Tom. He rolled over, muttering something I couldn’t quite decipher as he wrapped his arm around me, hand cupping my breast. My eyes closed as his warmth enveloped me, and I dozed off trying to count how many days remained until June 29th.  
****************************************  
We spent the weekend recovering, just the two of us, heading out for food periodically but otherwise just enjoying…being. Time felt like the enemy, and even though I tried to ignore it, my brain kept counting of the days we had left before his flight to Australia. Monday I was back in the office, working on marketing materials for the app and testing the customer management systems with Trudy. The rest of the staff picked up any slack left by Luke and Simon’s absence, their duties relatively minimal as our client base had been made aware of the wedding and honeymoon schedule well in advance. Tuesday and Wednesday were more of the same, with the additional tasks of contacting all the beta testers to request their reviews and creating an instructional video to post on the main website. Thursday was freak-out day, as it was my last official day of work prior to launch, and the last night I’d be sharing a bed with Tom for more than two weeks. Seventeen days, to be precise.   
Dinner was delivery pizza, followed by ice cream sundaes for dessert. Afterward, I helped him pack, and the strangeness of assisting the person I had grown so used to and loved having so close to me prepare to be so far away melted my brain a little. We showered, then attempted to sleep, but spent most of the night making love or simply staring at each other, as if committing as much detail as we could to memory so we’d have it as a touchstone while we were apart.  
Friday morning we were out the door and into a waiting cab by ten AM in order to arrive at Heathrow in plenty of time for his twelve forty-five PM flight. It would be a long one, twenty-five hours at minimum, during which I hoped he’d get some rest. Brisbane awaited, and there’d be staff housing as well as opportunities to visit the Hemsworths in Byron Bay. Jordan had chosen the Gold Coast to film, Queensland offering savannah-like settings as well as a tropical rainforest.   
Both of us were silent on the ride, holding hands, his thumb rubbing my wrist. We’d agreed to say our goodbyes just inside the main entrance, with me then returning to the cab and heading home while he checked in and went through security. The cab driver helped unload his baggage, then drove off to circle around until our paths coincided again, at which point he’d pick me up.  
I felt like I was going to puke at the sight of the gates, which made me wonder if this was going to become a ‘thing’…me stress-barfing at airports. Tom set the backpack he’d slung over his shoulder on the floor next to the rest of his luggage, then turned to me.  
“Well. Guess this is it, then.” He ran one hand through is hair. “Not sure I can do this, Maude.”  
I reached out to touch his arm, reveling in the feel of his long blue coat. “Yes you can. It’s okay. It’s going to be fine. Seventeen days and you’ll be picking my ass up in Brisbane. No big deal.” His hand caressed my cheek, and I burst into tears. “Shit. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry, and now I’m crying. Epic fail. I’m sorry.”  
He pulled me into his arms, one hand on the back of my head pressing me to his chest. “Don’t you be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the one who has to leave.”   
I leaned backwards so I could see his face, noticing that he was trying to hold back his own tears but was losing the battle, one already spilling over and running down his cheek. “No, I am. I’m the one who has to STAY.”  
We clung to each other, weeping quietly, until we both breathed deeply, knowing it was time to let go, whether we liked it or not. I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. “All right. I need to get the fuck out of here before I wind up throwing myself on the floor and wrapping my arms around your leg like a ball and chain.”  
He laughed, then bent to kiss me…long, slow, deliberate and full of everything we couldn’t say. He broke away first, taking my hands in his.  
“I am going to miss you like I’ve never missed anything ever before in my life. But we’ll text, we’ll call, we’ll Skype, and I’ll be busy and you’ll be busy and the days will pass and you’ll be back in my arms again in the blink of an eye.”  
I nodded and let go of his hands. “It’ll all be okay. I know. You know. It doesn’t make it suck any less, but it’ll be okay. Stay safe, Hiddleston. I love you. Heart and soul.”  
He smiled, red-rimmed eyes displaying a glimmer of hope, and joy. “I love you too, Maude. Heart and soul. I’ll see you soon. Good luck with the launch, and the show.”  
“Tell Kong I said hello. And, you know, everyone else, too.”  
“I shall.”  
With that, he gathered up his luggage, returned the backpack to his shoulder, then turned away from me and began to walk down the hall. I waited for a moment, staring at him, and he spun around quickly, waved, then turned back around and kept going, and I turned myself and half-jogged out to the curb, choking back seemingly endless sobs as I waited for the cab that would bring me back to our flat. Our flat, with just me in it. Alone.


	41. Chapter 41

It was bizarre, coming and going from our flat minus the other half of the ‘our’. I’d decided to sleep on the couch the first night because I didn’t think I could handle being in bed alone, but found myself climbing up the steps at three AM, a weepy, exhausted mess, in search of some sort of solace. After blowing my nose for what seemed like the hundredth time, I crawled under the covers and hugged his pillow tightly to my chest, his lingering scent calming me enough so that I was finally able to nod off. By Sunday night we’d Skyped several times, and knowing that he was safe, seeing his face, and hearing his voice allowed me to return to a reasonably functional level of humanness.

Monday was launch day, and the insanity that ensued was a very welcome distraction. By the close of business on Wednesday, Trudy and I had less than 12 hours of sleep between us…and just over a thousand subscribers. Word spread like wildfire, and Friday afternoon we celebrated hitting the two thousand mark with two pizzas, a case of Coke, and a two bags of truffles. We’d both been handling tech support and customer service ourselves, but after a lengthy discussion during our ‘can’t fucking move, too full, why god why’ post-binge state we came to the conclusion that we’d need to hire at least one more person, if not two. And quickly. She agreed to start canvasing over the weekend, hoping to bring in candidates ASAP so I could assist with training prior to my departure on the 22nd.

Saturday morning was rehearsal time, Simon and I sharing a cab to London’s Royal Festival Hall, the venue Emma had somehow managed to finagle for the benefit. It was beautiful, located inside Southbank Centre, right on the Thames with a seating capacity of 2500. Tickets prices had begun at two hundred pounds, with the boxes and front area selling for a thousand. Each attendee had the option of adding a donation to the actual cost, and I was hopeful that folks would cough up some decent dough to see some famous and semi-famous people making fools of themselves for such an important cause. We ran through our individual numbers twice, and our duet three times, reasonably satisfied that no one would demand their money back when all was said and done. ‘Before I’m Dead’ was a delight for me to sing, requiring little variation of my range…and it gave me an excellent reason to pull the black spaghetti-strap leather and silk dress by a designer whose name I could no longer remember out of the closet. Paired with black scrunched leather boots and my hair worn down, I’d be creating a moment for myself wherein I could gleefully revisit the grungy-goth badass cover band songstress I’d been long ago, sans the booze and the lackluster male companion.

We went to lunch afterward, then home to change, followed by a second shared cab that returned us to the hall at seven PM. The show was due to start at eight, and our performances had been spread out. Simon was fourth in line, I was eighth, and our duet was next to last of the second half. Both of us were unusually tranquil, he remaining awash in honeymoon afterglow, and me so thoroughly sleep deprived that my field of fucks had become a Depression-era dustbowl. His cover of ‘Heart Shaped Box’ sounded so like Kurt that I had to bite my lip the entire time to keep from crying, and I managed to pour all those feels into my own performance, which went by so quickly I found it hard to believe it was over when the applause began. We walked out onto the stage holding hands when it was time for our duet, and the audience rose for us when we finished. ‘Crystalized’ contained several instances of overlap with different lyrics, and I’d wondered if we’d waver and try to sing in unison, but it went off without a hitch. The evening ended with Emma presenting a brief documentary of women and men expressing their support for the group’s mission, and when I saw Tom up on the big screen my hand involuntarily lifted, arm extending, as if I could reach through and drag him into the room with me. Simon quashed the movement before anyone noticed, then escorted me to the lobby where he told me if I didn’t promise to get some rest he’d be forced to resort to putting Nyquil in my soda, and then he’d wind up in jail, and that would be bad so, you know, I should FUCKING SLEEP ALREADY.

I dozed off on his shoulder during the ride home, and when we arrived he walked me into my flat, up the stairs to the bedroom, helped me undress, then tucked me in. It was three PM on Sunday when I finally opened my eyes, got up, had some chips and dip, then went back to bed, sleeping right through until seven o’clock Monday morning.

The week that followed was a blur, interviewing twenty people, hiring two of them, and then trying to cram a month’s worth of training into a few days. They turned out to be the right people, though, because they picked up on everything ridiculously quickly and Trudy was confident when I left the office on Thursday that all would be well in my extended absence. Even if we needed to set up a few more servers, which was both ‘the dream’ and a potential nightmare, she said she’d handle it, no problem…because, after all, I’d be just a text or Skype away, wouldn’t I?

Packing was annoying as fuck, because I was completely distracted by the fact that one sleep and one long plane ride was all that separated me from seeing Tom again. Well, technically, I’d seen him all along, and Skype sex had turned out to be really, really hot…but his touch, his scent, his voice in my ear, the way his tongue felt against mine…my mind kept wandering and I checked some things off on my list like five times and totally missed others. Important shit would be forgotten, for sure. And one thing would be left behind on purpose…my supply of birth control pills. I had two more left in the current pack, and once they were gone, that would be that. It had been forever since I’d gotten my period, so I was super proud of myself that I’d thought ahead and bought some pads and tampons to bring along on my journey. Logical brain knew that feminine protection products were readily available in Australia, but terrified of change brain was all NO BUT WHAT IF so into the suitcase they went. Every time the thought that the potential existed for me to be schlepping around another human being inside me as soon as March popped into my head, I sang ‘Three Little Birds’ until the panic subsided enough for me to proceed with life as I currently knew it.

My slumber was sporadic, and I gave up at five AM, had some frozen waffles, two cups of tea, showered, dragged my stuff downstairs and paced as I waited a half hour for the cab to arrive at its prearranged time of seven AM. By ten AM I was in the air, on my way to Brisbane airport, where a car would be waiting to take me to…well, honestly, I had no clue other than it was somewhere on South Stradbroke island, which was part of the Gold Coast and where they were filming…but Tom would be there, and that’s all that mattered.

****************************************

I had zero concept of what day or time it was when we landed, but it was still light out, and it was warm. Which I really missed the mark with since I dressed for London in January when I left…baggy jeans, T-shirt with a black sweater over it, and a grey sweatshirt. I took of the sweatshirt and tied it around my waist as I headed to the international baggage claim area, hanging back to wait for most of the crowd to clear before trying to locate my two suitcases. My messenger bag had served as my carryon, back in place across my body after the jacket removal. I glanced up at the date and time clock, noting that it was five-thirty PM on Saturday, local time. Moments later my bags appeared, and as I was pulling them off the belt I felt someone lurking behind me, followed by a whisper in my ear just as I was about to turn around and freak the fuck out.

“Hello.”

I spun about, and there he was, face inches from mine, dressed in threadbare light blue T-shirt and navy running shorts, beaming at me, hands clasped behind his back. I smacked his shoulder, then threw myself at him, and when I felt his arms wind around my waist the most contented sigh I’d probably ever made whooshed out of me.

He chuckled as I nuzzled his neck. “Glad to see me, are you?”

I lifted my head, titled it back, then dove in for the kill, forcing my tongue between his lips. He groaned, sucking it in eagerly. I grunted, feeling him grinning through the kiss, then breaking it. A forward press of my body found him hard against my belly.

Left brow raised, I smirked. “Feeling’s mutual, is it?”

“Well, that’s not a pistol in my pocket, nor is it a banana, so…”

We laughed, but my glee diminished slightly as I took note of the dark circles under his eyes. “You’re exhausted.”

He smiled, reaching up to grab my chin and tilt it upward towards the light. “It would appear I’m not alone in burning the candle at both ends.”

I nodded. “No lies detected. Work’s been batshit crazy, though in a good way, and…” I paused.

He leaned in to touch his forehead to mine. “And what?”

“I’ve got me some serious issues with sleeping when you’re not in my bed, Hiddleston.’

“I love you.”

“And I love you. Question. What the fuck are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining.”

He pulled back and released me, grinning as he picked up one suitcase and extended the pull handle of the other. “I managed to wrangle some time, so I decided to drive up from South Stradbroke so you wouldn’t have a two hour car ride immediately after your flight. I booked us a room at the Brisbane Marriott for tonight…that’s only fifteen minutes or so from here. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s better than okay. It’s fan-fucking-tastic. Thank you. You’re the best. The absolute best.” I watched him walk towards the exit for a beat, watching him move, nearly pinching myself to ensure this was real, that he was real. A few rushed steps and I was at his side. “I missed you more than I thought possible. It wasn’t, like, curl up and die, other than the first night anyway, because we Skyped and texted and called, but…the number of times I just wanted to turn to you and say ‘hey, you know’ and you weren’t there…unreal. In Hawaii you were still in the same general geographic vicinity and I knew it would only be hours until I saw you, so that was easier, but damn, with me in London and you here…not a fan. I mean, I know, that’s the deal and we’re very fortunate that our careers allow us to spend as much time together as we do…”

He stopped, turning to me as he let go of the pull handle in order to stroke my cheek and trail his fingers down the side of my neck to my collarbone. “Filming kept my mind occupied while it was occurring, but the nights…I’d long for you while I tried to force myself to sleep, and when I did it was fitful, each awakening reminding me anew when I reached out to touch you, feel your warmth, that you were so very far, far away. Though I know it’s not practical, I would prefer to never, ever experience it again.”

I embraced him again, and we walked out to the parking lot, loaded the black Range Rover he’d rented, then headed for the Marriott, blathering on about everything and nothing all at once. It was a gorgeous building, the lobby all neutral-toned marble mixed with black and white, creating a stark contrast that I loved. We were on the sixteenth floor, a simple yet elegant white-linened king with wooden furniture in the sleeping area, a pale beige bathroom with a wooden counter and mirror trimmed with wood and gold. The shower was clear glass with gold accents, and while I had an aversion to gold fixtures, it was actually tolerable in this instance.

Tom abandoned the luggage near the door, and I plopped my messenger back on top of one of the suitcases. He took my hand and led me to the window, which overlooked the Brisbane River. As I gazed out at the water and the area beyond the bridge, he shifted so he was behind me, one hand untying the sweatshirt around my waist, the other brushing my hair to one side. His lips found the spot on my neck just below my hairline that made me shiver, and as the sweatshirt fell to the floor he pressed himself against me, undoing my jeans and slipping one hand inside my panties as the other cupped my left breast. His lips had traveled around to the side of my neck, and when his teeth nipped me my hips shot forward, his index finger slipping into my slit, a whimper emanating from him as he discovered the wetness that awaited him. His voice was thick with desire when he whispered in my ear.

“I wanted to take this slow, to drink you in, bask in your glory…”

“But instead you’re going to bend me over this desk…” It was to our right, and I tapped on the glass top, my hand shaking with anticipation.”…and fuck me like there’s no tomorrow?”

He didn’t answer, apparently preoccupied with sliding my jeans and underwear down my legs and turning me to the side. I tried to lean forward, but he spun me around and lifted me up instead, setting me down atop the desk, the smooth cool glass pressing against my ass cheeks. Bending down, he yanked off my boots and threw them to the side one at a time, then dragged my pants and undies over my ankles, tossing them over his shoulder and behind him. He knelt, crawling halfway under the table to look up at me through the glass.

“Now that’s a view. Spread your legs for me?”

I obliged, though it was wickedly ungraceful because my skin stuck to the glass as if my thighs were giant suction cups. His gasp was delightful, and I chuckled as he backed out and stood, waistband of his shorts down to his thighs, cock in hand, red and throbbing. I scuttled backward, feet on the edge of the table, and he leaned forward and plunged into me, stilling when he was fully sheathed.

“Oh. My god. You feel amazing…so wet, so hot…oh god.”

He pulled out fully, and as he entered me again, it…happened. One super loud, seemingly endless queef. Though we’d been fucking for more than half a year, it was something we’d yet to encounter until this very moment. His head was bowed so I couldn’t see his face, but I suspected he was frantically weighing his options. Laugh, which I knew would be his instinctual response? Comfort me in case I was embarrassed? Pretend it never happened? I decided to swoop in and save the day.

“Hmm, I guess someone felt the need to express her displeasure at not having you around to rub her the right way for entirely too long.”

His head snapped up, eyes meeting mine, and he burst out laughing. I followed suit, our moment of intense passion morphing into a comedic sketch, the sort which is only known to those who are thoroughly and completely comfortable with each other. Minutes passed until we were able to speak again, Tom reaching that point before I did, lifting himself up from where he’d collapsed on top of me, expression blank.

“Well, she certainly gave me what for, didn’t she?”

We both dissolved into giggles, until our movement reminded us that his cock was inside me, still hard and raring to go, and when I clenched around him the joviality faded instantly. I bit my lip, exhaling sharply as I wrapped my legs around him.

“Time to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow, ya?

“Ya. Ya ya ya ya ya.”

He began thrusting, and barely thirty seconds later we were both chanting each other’s names as we came. I craned my neck upward in order to press my lips to his, and as our tongues connected he wrapped his arms around me, lifted me up, then carried me to the bed. We kissed ourselves breathless, and I felt him slip out of me. His fingers stroked my face, tracing the line of my brows, my nose, and my lips. I smiled as I reached out to caress his cheek.

“Hi.”

He smiled in return, eyes bright and full of affection.

“Hi.”

We remained as such for a good while, touching each other, confirming we were indeed flesh and blood, together again. I felt my eyes closing as I nodded off, the feel of Tom’s body shifting away from me snapping me back to wakefulness. I sat up, shaking my head to clear away the cobwebs. He sat up as well, rubbing my back softly.

“You, young lady, are obviously in dire need of some rest. Will you be all right without dinner?”

“Yep. Had candy on the plane. And I’m too tired to hold a fork or stuff…and stuff? Something. Need a shower though. Too much human stink.”

He stood, chuckling, and offered a hand, which I gratefully accepted because I didn’t really see how I was going to get off the bed. The past two weeks had been go, go, go, and having just a sliver of down time made me realize that I hadn’t actually relaxed the entire time we’d been apart, and now that I was at ease…everything caught up with me at once and the tiredness seemed to settle into my bones. I took off my sweater, t-shirt and bra in the bathroom while he grabbed my messenger bag, and as I lined up my toiletries on the counter I came across the packet of pills, a single active one left, along with the five placebos. He was standing in the doorway, and I spun around and held it out towards him.

“Look! See?”

He stepped forward, leaning in to inspect what I’d proffered more closely.

“Your birth control pills. Yes. I see them.” His head tilted to the right. “Are you sure you’re okay to shower alone?”

I nodded, popped the active pill from the foil, dry-swallowed it, then tossed the packet in the garbage as I pointed at Tom with my other hand.

“That’s it. They’re over. They’re cancelled. Last one. Baby game on.”

An expression of incredulity spread across his face…well, down it, actually, beginning with his eyebrows shooting upward, followed by his eyes widening almost comically, then his jaw dropping, mouth agape until his right hand rose to cover it briefly before he lowered it in order to speak.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m gobsmacked, Maude. Gob. Smacked. I…I…really? That’s the last? We’re here? It’s time? I can’t…oh my god.”

He was on me before I registered that he’d moved, pulling me to his chest, my left cheek smooshed against the fabric of his T-shirt, his hand holding my head in place. I wriggled and he moved his hand to my waist, allowing me to lean back.

“The last. Yes. That’s a fact, Jack. Also, I think I should take advantage of your euphoric state to inform you that it has been a really, REALLY long time since I’ve done the whole period thing and I have no idea what to expect going forward, in a hormonal sense. AKA, there’s a chance I’m going to turn into a vicious hell beast because, PMS, so I’m just going to go ahead and apologize for my potentially horrific behavior now, m’kay?”

“Maude, I’ve seen you do business. If that didn’t disturb me, nothing will.”

I feigned offense. “Thomas. How dare you!”

He laughed. “You know it’s true. You are savage.”

“Vicious hell beast savage?” He shrugged, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he smirked. “Weeellllll…it’s kinda true…but I think you might change your tune when the fury is fired in your direction and for no reason other than you ate the last cupcake or something…”

His hands slipped down to grab my ass cheeks as he leaned in to whisper in my ear, voice dropping several octaves. “Lucky for both of us that I know precisely how my savage beast is most easily soothed, isn’t it?”

“With truffles?”

He pulled me against him, cock at full mast once more. “Try again.”

I snorted. “Not having that shower now, am I?” He shook his head. “Lucky for both of us that I just got my five hundredth and whatevereth wind, then, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. Come. Allow me to service you in the boudoir area.”

“Oh, fancy talk. I like it. You’re going to take your clothes off this time, right?”

“Oh, yes.” He’d said it in his Loki voice, and when we raced back to the bed, I won easily. Too easily…which meant he’d wanted to watch me jiggle, which was really, really okey dokey super fine.

****************************************

We ate breakfast in the hotel café, then hit the road for South Stradbroke. Australia’s Gold Coast was like nothing I’d ever seen, and I spent most of the ride shouting things like ‘oh my god look at that’, ‘did you see that’ and ‘everything is so spectacularly beautiful wow wow wow’ as Tom focused on the road and likely tried to tune out the overly vocal scenery enthusiast he’d chosen to spend the rest of his time on the planet with. The trip was just over two hours total when all was said and done, and when we pulled into the car park at the Hope Harbour Marina, I really, truly thought we’d be staying on a boat, which I was totally not into. At all. Entirely too claustrophobic, plus, drowning. Just as I was about to voice my opinion, Tom turned to me.

“I hope you aren’t disappointed, but we’re not actually residing on a houseboat…”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I closed my eyes and clasped my hands in mock prayer. “Thank you, universe. Thank you.”

He chuckled. “Guess that means you aren’t disappointed in the least, then. Do you have an aversion to sea faring vessels I’m not yet aware of?”

“No, not really…the idea of sleeping on a non-cruise ship size boat freaks me out, though. Which I’m not sure I knew until we pulled into the lot. Really close quarters, increased chance of drowning…no. Hard pass.”

“So a boat ride isn’t out of the question?”

My brows rose. “There’s no road to South Stradbroke Island, is there?”

“Um…no.” His right hand settled on my left knee. “But there’s an incredibly cool ferry, and Legendary has commissioned a good number of water taxis for the production. The ferry leaves in…” He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes. It might take longer to find someone to take out one of the taxis, though, since it’s Sunday…”

“In that case, lead me to the ferry, oh captain, my captain.”

“Oh, your captain…I like that. Perhaps we should pick me up a yacht cap?”

I opened the door and stepped out into the brilliant sunlight, squinting, as did he. “I’ll allow it. But not the uniform. Even I have standards, though Simon will tell you otherwise. Those are just…tacky. And remind me of the Love Boat. Which I’d prefer to NOT be reminded about, thank you very much. Shit. Too late. I can hear the theme song…”

He began singing at the top of his lungs. “Love, exciting and new, come aboard, we’re expecting yoouuuu…”

It seemed rude to not join in, so I let loose as well. “Love, life’s sweetest reward, let it flow, it floats back to you…THE LOOOOOVVVEEEE BOAT…soon will be making another run…”

I followed him to the back of the Range Rover, watching as he pulled out my luggage and set it on the pavement, marveling at his thighs. “I guess that means the show aired in the UK at some point, eh?”

The corners of his mouth curled up in a half-smile. “Yes indeed it did.”

He closed the back and set the alarm, and I grabbed his bicep. “Oh my god, you loved it, didn’t you? You loved the Love Boat. Dude, how could you be even dorkier than I already knew you to be? And it was only on until 1987 or something so you got, like, a serious jump start on dorkdom…”

His index finger booped the tip of my nose. “If loving the Love Boat is wrong, I don’t want to be right, Maude.”

My eyes widened and I squeezed his arm harder. “Oh my god, it was the Captain’s daughter, wasn’t it? What the fuck was her name…Jessica? No, that’s not it…”

He cut me off. “Vicki Stubing. Played by Jill Whelan. My very first crush. I distinctly remember being teased about how I blushed every time she was on screen.”

“What were you, five? Six at most?”

“Five.”

“And already loving the ladies. Which is not surprising, actually.”

Laughing, he leaned in, his face inches from mine. “First kiss when I was ten. Girl in my class. Huge crush. Tongues and everything. And…”

I put my hand over his mouth. “No thank you. I’m on the verge of a jealous sneaky hate spiral already. Because you kissed someone when you were ten. Hello, I am Tom’s irrational fiancé. Nice to meet you.”

He took hold of my wrist and pulled my hand away gently, eyes fixed on mine. “If it’s any consolation, you, my love, are the last woman I’ll ever kiss.”

My jaw went slack, eyes closing for a few seconds as I inhaled deeply, then exhaled as I opened them again. “Wow. Hiddleston. Wow.”

He grinned, letting go of my wrist to twine his fingers with mine. “Get your hustle on, honey. If we miss this ferry we’ll be stuck here for another three hours or so.”

The ferry wasn’t what I was expecting, because when someone says ‘ferry’ to someone from New York they tend to picture the Staten Island Ferry. Or maybe that was just me, but I was pleased to see it was of a much higher caliber than the one from Jaws. It was more of a converted yacht, but wider, with a ton more windows for view appreciation purposes. The bottom was blue, the upper portion white, with a Couran Cove logo on the side. I pointed to it as we reached the dock and one of the crew escorted us on board, another having gone before us with my luggage.

“Shall I assume that’s where we’re staying? I’m imagining Gilligan’s Island. Now I’m picturing myself in a coconut bra. And you’re the Professor. You should probably stop me at some point.”

He snorted as we traversed the deck, proceeding toward the open rear portion at the back. “Yes and no. Yes, as it’s a cove, and beautiful, but a no on essentially everything else. Though I would thoroughly enjoy that coconut bra.”

“Now I’m picturing YOU in a coconut bra.”

“There may or may not be photographic evidence of such a thing already floating around in the ether. Just so you’re aware. Anyway. Couran Cove is a resort, which Legendary has booked most of for filming, and we’re about to take a brief but breathtakingly beautiful cruise along the Coomera River during which we should probably take a selfie because I’ve really been slacking off on my social media presence of late.”

The captain spoke over the sound system, announcing our impending launch, and advising that we’d be arriving at the resort in approximately an hour. I raised a brow, arms crossing, opting to ignore his social media comment.

“Brief, huh?”

He grinned, slipping his arms around my waist. “Well, kayaking there takes much longer…so by comparison, it is, in fact, brief. But it’s a CRUISE. We’re cruising. I shall be your tour guide.”

I rested my palms on his chest. “You know, when you said you went kayaking, I didn’t think you, like, went kayaking.”

“Well, if I recall correctly I didn’t have much of an opportunity to elaborate because someone discarded their undergarments unexpectedly.”

“Oh, like you never did the exact same thing.”

“Guilty as charged, m’lady. But at least I had the courtesy to not interrupt you while you were speaking.”

He squeaked as I pinched his nipple. “Right, right. That’s true. You just stripped down and sprawled across the bed and started jerking off BEFORE you hit connect so that’s the first thing I saw and dude, no words. No. Words. Though I guess I get to see where that actually happened now which honestly is incredibly problematic in and of itself, is it not? No need to reply. It is. It so is.”

We’d left the channel and emerged out into the river, and it was just…breathtaking. We stood with our backs to the water and Tom took a few shots, chose the best and posted it.

Gold Coast river cruise. This one back in my arms. So much joy. #filming #kong skull island #ALIVE

All along the way Tom pointed out flora, fauna, landmarks…and I missed most of it, entirely focused on his voice and watching him just…be. When we arrived at the resort dock, I was in awe of how modern the structures were, yet tropical as well, all painted in vibrant colors. Tom explained that the design was intended to be ‘green’ in order to minimize its overall footprint and interference with the natural ecosystem of the island. There were no motor vehicles permitted, and all travel throughout was conducted via bicycle or on foot. Even the shoot was limited in many aspects, the crew acutely aware of how extraordinary a location they were working in and always striving to leave things exactly as they’d been when they departed any given area. He toted my luggage along the walking paths on the way to our lodge, a robin’s egg blue building that resembled a shipping container set upon piers. The deck was prow-shaped, and essentially over the water, only a two foot strip of sand serving as separation. To either side was sand, back to the edge of the lodge and the tree line. The door was at the rear, up three steps. Tom went first, stretching out his arm after setting down my bags.

“Madame, may I present your quarters for the immediate future?”

I smiled, my eyes roaming over the space. It was painted bright white, the floor of variegated wood, the living room furnished simply with a loveseat, two chairs, and a storage bench of light blue fabric. A light wood coffee table rested in the middle, and a large TV hung on the wall directly across from the loveseat. The kitchen cabinets were white with stainless accents, the counters black marbled stone. It was small, but fully featured, the front peninsular counter serving as the dining area. Four stools backed to the living room, wooden seats with stainless legs. There was a tiny wood-burning stove off to the side, on the same wall as the TV, with a wall mounted air conditioner over the window next to it. I nodded as I turned to Tom.

“This is refreshingly minimalist. Tell Jordan I wholeheartedly approve.”

Tom laughed. “I shall.” He gestured to what I thought were traditional sliding glass doors leading out to the deck at the far end of the living room, then jogged over to them, at which point I realized they were folding glass doors that actually swiveled to the side in order to create a seamless indoor/outdoor space. Grinning, he flung both arms out from his sides, “Ta da!”

“Take it easy there, Loki.”

His arms rose and extended toward the ceiling, hands clenched into fists. “YES! You got the joke!”

I walked past him, smirking as I stepped out onto the deck. “Yes, Tom. I understood that reference.”

He guffawed, and I turned to witness his right hand slapping his thigh, the left on his belly. “Have I mentioned that I missed you? So much? Terribly? In so many ways? One of which is…either you’re just especially skilled at understanding my humor, or since meeting you I’ve become significantly less funny because so many of my jokes just go…” He waved a hand over his head. “You know. WOOSH.”

“Have you considered that I simply play along because you’re an amazing lay?”

Rubbing his chin, his eyes turned upward as he pretended to ponder my question. He shrugged, a thin-lipped smile spreading across his face. “I’ve decided to simply focus on the fact that you think I’m an amazing lay and leave it at that.”

He joined me on the deck, and we walked to the prow together. One long finger pointed to the yellow lodge to our left. “That’s Brie there.” The finger reversed course, arm passing in front of his body and mine, to mark the while lodge to our right. “And that’s Jason.”

While I’d known the cast and crew had taken over most of the resort, I hadn’t taken into account that I’d be living amongst them. “Wow. Is this, like, okay? Me being here the entire time? In Hawaii there was, you know…distance.”

“Of course it’s okay. It’s the same as staying in a hotel, or an on-set trailer. Just…right on the beach. And it’s really just a bit over two weeks, anyway.”

“Well, if it becomes not okay for any reason, don’t be shy about saying so.”

He kissed the top of my head. “It’ll be fine. Everyone else has visitors, and a few crew members brought their families along as well.”

Family. I was family. What a strange but wonderful thing. I looked up at him, grinning. “So what I’m hearing is that as long as I remember to put my clothes on before I come out here, this might just work.”

“For everyone else, yes. For me, not so much.”

We laughed, then went back inside. After I unpacked, Tom continued his tour guide duty as we walked the entirety of the resort, ending up at the Marlin Bar & Bistro. Dinner was delicious…I’d opted for the Union Burger, which was comprised of beef, lettuce, tomato, beetroot, onion, packet cheese and bacon served on a toasted bun. Tom had a seafood pizza, and his incessant asking for me to try it resulted in much bird flipping. We ran into Brie on the way out, and as she squeezed me I considered mentioning her doppelganger Willa, but decided that might be weird so I kept my yap shut. Night had fallen, and the resort had a strict policy regarding lighting in order to maintain as natural environment as possible. There were no overheads, the walkways all lit at ground level. The sky was like nothing I’d ever seen, other than photographs taken in the deserts of the western US. When we got back to the lodge we headed out the deck, quickly pushing the lounge chairs right next to each other. After nestling into them, we held hands and first tested our astronomy knowledge, then gazed wordlessly into the sparkling infinity of space.

****************************************

We fell into a comfortable routine over the first few days, him rising at four AM to work out in the resort’s sports complex prior to filming and returning home near on ten PM, me adjusting my work schedule to align with whatever acceptable UK time I could manage. The app was performing well, and so far Trudy and the new hires were able to keep up with the demand. I was thankful each and every day that she’d turned up at the Cube in search of me, and Luke and I outlined a timetable to increase her salary and, eventually, cut her in on the profits. Website work was my main focus, updating the ones I’d already set up and creating new ones for clients who were either new or I hadn’t gotten to yet. Keeping tabs on social media was second in line, and since I’d begun sending out daily reminders to all clients as a group there were only a few that I needed to chase down. There’d been a minor incident with one of our fold posting something political that received a good bit of backlash, but that was easily remedied with a public apology. My period arrived two days after I expected it to, and it was just as fucking miserable as I remembered. The cramps, the clots, the crying…the idea of being pregnant was frightening, but I was now in the fast lane of the ‘oh my god make it soon this is an unacceptable way to live’ freeway.

It seemed hardly any time had gone by when February 9th rolled around, and with it Tom’s surprise birthday party. The resort staff had been incredibly helpful, doing almost all the legwork and setup for us, which cut back the chances of him learning our secret significantly. Jordan ended filming at four, citing the need to finalize plans for the impending re-location to Vietnam as his reason for doing so. Tom returned to the lodge grimy and sweaty as per usual, insisting that I shouldn’t hug him, followed by me hugging him anyway. I’d even adjusted my shower time to accommodate his seemingly limitless capacity for filth, and grown almost fond of his rankness.

My arms wrapped around his torso, reveling in the contrast between the softness of his well-worn blue T-shirt and his taut back muscles. “Happy Birthday, you gorgeous hunk of man meat.”

He grinned. “Thank you. I’m having difficulty accepting that I’m thirty-five. It seems impossible.”

“Dude, I know. Soon we’ll be forty.”

His finger touched my lips gently. “You’ll be forty sooner.”

I moved to bite it as he pulled his hand away. “Well that was fucking rude.”

The grin grew wider, his brows raised comically. “It was. Perhaps I need a good spanking?”

Nodding, I released him, patting his left bicep. “Nice save, Hiddleston. Later, though. We need to shower so we aren’t late for dinner.”

“We could always skip…”

I shook my head. “No. It’s your birthday, and I’m taking you to dinner, and that’s that. Get in there, hot stuff. Our reservation is for five-thirty.”

Lying to him even in this capacity had made me uncomfortable, so I’d let him in on the location to both make myself feel better and reduce the chances of my slipping and fucking everything up. I showered when he was finished, and after I dressed we headed out, both in shorts and T-shirts, me in sandals, him in his Vans. We’d passed the club previously, but never stopped to check it out. It was lovely, featuring both indoor and outdoor eating space, the latter a deck with a tent-like, sloping canvas roof. The tables had been clothed in white, and as we approached he shot me some serious side eye when it dawned on him that the ones out on the deck, all with an incredible water view, were completely empty at prime dinner time. I ignored him, instead walking to the open double doors that led from the deck inside. He stopped short of going in, and when I turned to look at him it was blatantly obvious that he was desperately trying to mask his excitement. I sighed, feigning exasperation.

“Come ON. I’m starving, dude.” Before he could utter a response I dodge behind him and shoved him forward with all my might. Bodies leapt up and out and around and through from every direction into the dining area, all shouting in unison.

“SURPRISE!”

His hand clutched at his chest, and I knew that even though he’d had an inkling as to what was going on, he was totally overwhelmed by the sheer volume of folks who’d turned out to celebrate. He pressed both hands together and bowed, and everyone applauded. The staff rolled out carts of finger food, followed by one of the most fantastic cakes I’d ever seen…a replica of the Empire State Building, complete with King Kong on top, holding a gentleman in wing-tips and suspenders which I assumed was intended to represent the birthday boy himself. Below, on the ground level, were several bystanders and a partially-hidden director filming all the action. His face lit up, and he immediately took off to check it out, bending at the waist, hands on his knees as he carefully inspected the baker’s work.

“Oh my god, that IS me Kong’s holding. This is…and the banner that says Happy Birthday Tom flying behind the plane that got stuck on the building…so spot on for the 1933 film, what the figures are wearing…wow. WOW.”

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of hilarity and friendly chatter, and I was introduced to so many people I could barely remember my own name. We ate, sang, held karaoke battles, and danced like fools. Tom got more than a little drunk tossing back as many shots as possible while everyone else sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, and as we nibbled on seconds of cake out on the deck, he leaned in, eyes on mine with an unsettling intensity.

“Thirty-five. I still can’t wrap my head around it, even though since I’ve been on this shoot my body is well aware that things. Have. Changed. Double this and the end is nigh. This is the one go-round, all we get, and it’s essentially half over.” His hand grabbed my knee. “It’s not enough, Maude. It’s just not. Thinking that there’s a time limit on how long we get to be with each other, with the children we’ll have…it’s so terribly cruel. So, so cruel.”

I rose from my chair and climbed into his lap, not caring if the chair survived the onslaught. Pulling his head to my chest, I buried my face in his hair, one hand stroking the nape of his neck. No words of comfort came to me, so I remained silent, focusing my energy on our physical connection…the very thing that we all lose in the end. His arms had held me almost painfully tight, and when I felt his grip begin to loosen, I knew he’d worked his way through his inner storm and was ready to step back out into the sunshine again, where he preferred to reside and typically worked tirelessly to remain.

His head lifted from my chest, expression bashful as he caressed my cheek. “Maude, I’m SO sorry about that…I don’t know what’s gotten into me…”

“Life. That’s what. And whatever those shots were. Don’t be sorry. I understand. It’s the thing we all try to NOT think about, but sometimes it rears its ugly head, and we panic, we rage, we mourn, and then we…get back to living. You’ve made a very conscious choice to be an optimist, to make the most of every moment, to not just live but LIVE, all caps. And that’s…it’s the best any of us can do, you know?”

He smiled, a single tear sliding down the side of his nose. “You know that song, by Coldplay? The one you sent me back in December that you said was the perfect expression of how you felt about…us?”

“Adventure of a Lifetime?”

“Exactly. Those lyrics, ‘if we’ve only got this life, this adventure, oh, then I, and if we’ve only got this life you get me through, and if we’ve only got this life, in this adventure, oh, then I, want to share it with you’…and the whole song, really…it’s…it’s…”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Can that song…do you think…could that be our wedding song? I know it’s an unusual choice, and that most prefer something slow and…”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back my own tears. “Do you have any idea how pissed off I am that I didn’t think of it first?” We laughed, and I kissed his forehead. “It’s the only option as far as I’m concerned. Thank you. Also, do you think anyone would notice if we disappeared right now? Because I’ve kinda had entirely too much birthday and not nearly enough boy.”

He nodded, and I peeled myself off his lap and stood, stretching as he rose. Arm in arm, we silently crossed the deck, our passage masked by darkness and the low hum of constant chatter, fading to nothing as we walked briskly to our destination, anxious for the private after-party to begin.


	42. Chapter 42

We left the Gold Coast on February 13th, returned home for two days, then were off again…first to Berlin for a screening of ‘The Night Manager’ with a Q & A session, then on to Vietnam, where shooting began the day after we arrived. The entire experience there was life-altering, in a way. The people, who were so kind, generous, and welcoming, and the locations, some of which had never before been filmed, were majestic and evocative of a land time had, to our benefit, forgotten…but most of all, the opportunity to immerse myself in a culture I had little knowledge of was humbling, and miraculous, and I made every effort to be out and about with every spare moment I had. When production wrapped in mid-March, Jordan announced that he was planning on relocating to the area, and I found myself just the tiniest bit jealous. There was such a sense of peace there, despite such a tumultuous upheaval in the not so distant past…a testament to the human spirit, our ability to keep pressing onward, to continue to live, and even thrive. A lesson in perspective, I suppose.

Tom was due in Los Angeles on March 20th for a photoshoot, so we opted to go directly there instead of heading home to London and then back out again. The 21st was booked with interviews, which would be followed by the official ‘I Saw the Light’ premiere on the 22nd. This was the first time I’d be walking a red carpet with him, other than the brief appearance at the Cube. Though Tom normally preferred the Beverly Hills Hotel, we were staying at the Loews Hollywood due to its proximity to the Egyptian, where the screening would be held, and Sadie’s Kitchen, the venue chosen for the after party. Our room was on the 15th floor, modern décor in shades of grey, white and burgundy, with a view of the Hollywood sign…currently packed with a team of stylists, garment bags and rolling racks making me feel like a sardine in a tin. Granted, a very lovely tin, but a tin nonetheless. Tom was almost ready to go, his bright blue suit complementing his eyes perfectly, black necktie offering a bold contrast to his white dress shirt. I was still in my skivvies, one of the gals taping me into my strapless bra ‘just in case’. Despite the opportunity it created for an epic wardrobe malfunction, I was totally in love with my gown. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, gradient purple, near black at the top, fading to pale lilac midway down in the front and plum in the back. The skirt was floor length and full, and both a portion of it and nearly the entire bodice were decorated with silver vines and leaves, cascading downward like a waterfall. I’d opted for dark purple heels, on the thick side because I figured there was less of a risk of tripping in front of the press line that way. Around my neck was my tourmaline necklace, and my hair had been pinned up in a loose bun. As I pondered what food choices awaited me at Sadie’s, the gal announced that my tits were secure and I was instructed to step carefully into the gown, zipped up, and released into the wild to fend for myself. Tom’s hands descended upon my shoulders as I inspected the contents of my clutch one final time, making sure I had a room key, my cell phone, tissues and a Snickers bar.

“You look gorgeous, as always.”

I turned my head to meet his gaze. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” He grinned, releasing me, and I spun around to get a better look at him. “Mmm. That is a nifty suit. To the left…to the right…where will…aha, LEFT. What’s that, eight out of ten or something?”

“I didn’t realize we were collecting data. Will the results be in the form of a bar graph or a pie chart?”

“A fifty page thesis, actually. Available for sale on Amazon. I figure we can fund our retirement with it.”

He laughed, interrupted by his phone chirping. “Car’s here. Let’s roll.”  
“Walk. I’m going to walk. Probably. Rolling sounds like ‘a YouTube Star is Born’. But I suppose that could fund some shit too…”

We exited arm in arm, piled into the elevator with a bunch of other fancy people I didn’t know, then climbed into the black SUV waiting for us. It was still light out, the day bright and sunny. Our vehicle was sixth in line when we pulled up to the Egyptian Theater, and my jaw dropped at how old-school big-glam Hollywood it looked, the red carpet lining the courtyard, velvet ropes and press wherever I looked. It was far from my first rodeo, but it was the first time I’d be at such an event in the capacity of ‘movie star’s plus one’. A low whistle escaped my lips.

“Wow, so we’re like, really doing this. Surreal, Tom. Sur-REAL.”

He took my hand in his, pulling my attention away from what I could see outside the window. I smiled at the sight of the excitement written all over his face. “It is that, positively. And I’m…I’m…well, I’m like a live wire, Maude. Crackling and vibrating and super charged with energy because I’m not walking this one alone, you’re going to be right by my side and…” He let go of my hand, flinging both his up in the air and waving them around jazz-style as he grinned. “I. AM. UNCONTROLLABLY EXCITED!”

I leaned in to kiss his cheek, quickly wiping the lipstick I left behind away with one of my tissues. “My god you are just too cute. Does this car have a sick bag? Because the cute is going to make me barf, for sure.” I mock-gagged.

He continued to grin like a fool as he pointed to the window behind me. “We’re up! It’s time! Let’s go, my lady. LET’S GO!”

Before I could ask for a moment to get my shit together, he was out of the car, the roar of waiting fans greeting him as he ran around to my side and opened the door for me. I took his proffered hand and stepped out into the daylight, the roars growing louder, our names being shouted above the din by press and onlookers alike. As we made our way down to the entrance, Tom stopped to sign and take selfies as long as time would allow, and then it was time for us to strike a pose. The flashes were the worst part, a ceaseless strobing that made it very difficult to focus, but mid-way through my eyes and brain seemed to adjust and I found myself having a really good fucking time mugging for the cameras with the man of the evening. The interviews were a blast, Tom taking the lead and doing most of the talking, pulling me in here and there when it was someone he’d interacted with on previous occasions or mentioned my name. We were like a comedy improv team that sang on command, and by the time we made it into the actual screening I was totally high on fun. Not exactly the right vibe for such a serious, angsty, sad movie, but in the end I was grateful I went into it with a boost because the ended pregnancy talk scene was difficult to watch even though it was the second time around. There I sat, holding back tears with Tom’s hand in mine, shaking, and me rubbing his wrist with my thumb. As soon as the credits rolled we were ushered quickly to the car, and then it was off to Sadie’s. I was a very intimate setting, the décor an eclectic mix of woods, stones, metals and glass. The food was a bit too micro for my taste, and there were moments when I seriously considered grabbing an entire tray of hor d'oeuvres and making a break for the coatroom. Tom had been indulging in champagne all evening, and Rodney’s band was in the house, so I knew that it wouldn’t be long until an impromptu jam session occurred. I’d avoided going to the bathroom since we left the hotel, and the three sodas I’d guzzled made it impossible to postpone any longer. I kissed Tom on the cheek, leaving him with the drummer whose name I’d been given but could absolutely not recall and headed for the rest room. Fitting into the stall was the first hurdle, turning around was the second, and it actually got more and more complicated every step of the way until my hands were full of fabric and my ass was on the chilly seat. Figuring out how to wipe was the Rubik’s cube of the process, and I stared at the toilet paper dispenser for an untold amount of minutes. I heard the band begin to play Move It On Over, heard them finish, then start up with Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Tom’s yodeling snapped me out of my stupor and I bunched all the fabric in the crook of one arm, tore off the necessary quantity of sheets with my free hand and took care of business like a boss. As I thanked the gods for auto-flush, I unlocked the stall, dropped the fabric back in place and propelled myself outward…right into Lizzie, who was wearing a far more practical dress that wasn’t all floaty and poufy and just waiting for an accident to happen. She grinned.

“So? Enjoying the party? Or did you come in here to hide like, you know, I DID?” 

I laughed. “So far, so good. Nice to know it’s not just me who seeks refuge in bathrooms, though. But this time it’s a legit visit. Which was terrifying.”

“Maude, there are more dresses in my closet that I wound up buying because they were unfit to return then I care to count. Wine, toothpaste, hair gel, lipstick, chocolate, things I don’t even know what they are and probably don’t want to…and lemme tell ya, I know all the best bathrooms for hiding in SO many cities all around the world. The private ones with really loud fans are just…” She sighed. “Perfection.”

Washing my hands, I nodded. “Oh yeah. Peace and quiet. If they only came with a Do Not Disturb sign…”

“Oh my GOD, there’s a bathroom in a restaurant in Toronto, I can’t remember the name but I know where it is, I can see it…damn…anyway, they HAVE that.”

“No they do not.”

She nodded, walking to the stall furthest from the door. “Yes they do! Best twenty minutes of my night a few years back.” Turning, she waved. “Okay, I’m goin’ in. If anyone’s looking for me…”

“I have no idea where you are.”

She blew me a kiss. “Bless you.”

As I re-entered the chaos, I was hit with an extra-loud, slightly slurred version of Hey Good Lookin’, and I couldn’t wait to round the corner and see Tom in action. And take a video. Which I’d totally post on Tumblr because surely it was something the entire world needed to see. The band had set up on one side of the dining area, which had been cleared of tables, and they were surrounded by cast and crew, some standing and clapping, others dancing. Tom was easy to spot, and as I worked my way through the crowd, I noticed that there was a woman hanging on him, her arm resting on his shoulder as she shimmied to the beat. She was waiflike, incredibly thin and tall, taller than Tom, even, in her white stilettos, her white mini dress so short I didn’t think it would be possible for her to sit down without putting on one hell of a show. There were triangular cut-outs at the waist, and her platinum blonde hair hung halfway down her back. Her eyes were huge, greenish-grey, and beautiful, the stand out component of her heart-shaped face with its perfect Cupid’s bow mouth. I’d never seen her before and had never asked him to point her out in the film, though I now recognized her from it, and as I registered that it was the woman he was terrified of running into, and that we’d forgotten the possibility of her being there, or at least I had, my heart began to pound in my chest. Claudia. Right there, in front of me, rubbing up against my fiancé. 

As the song ended everyone cheered, and she placed her hands on either side of Tom’s head, turned his face towards hers, then kissed him squarely on the lips in far too intimate a fashion and for entirely too long. I heard a few gasps, but they were eclipsed by the roaring of my heartbeat in my ears, and I fought the urge to scream as I watched him gently push her away. He turned back toward the crowd, stone-faced, and when his mask slipped almost imperceptibly I knew he’d spotted me. I wanted to run, flee the scene, disappear into the night but this was a party full of his co-workers, part of the promo, and doing so would certainly hit the gossip rags in a flash and had the potential to damage the success of the film and so I stood, and I faked a smile as he walked toward me with the woman who possessed a cache of sex tapes starring them both at his side. Once they were two feet away, she opened her clutch and pulled out what I knew to be a hotel room key, as it bore the same logo as the one in my own. Her voice was a much higher pitch than mine, volume just loud enough for both Tom and I to hear when she spoke, pressing the plastic rectangle into his hand.

“Here’s my key. Panorama suite two. I’ll see you shortly.” She turned to me, smirking, then back to him, gesturing in my direction with her thumb. “You can bring her too, if you want, even though she’s not exactly my type. That giant cock of yours more than makes up for it.”

She grinned widely at me, then walked across the room, hair swaying back and forth as she rolled her hips, finally vanishing around the corner and into the hall that led to the exit after what seemed like forever. I heard Tom say my name, and I looked up, but I stared at the knot in his tie because I couldn’t look him in the eye. He took my hand in his, which I permitted, and after his first ‘good night’ it dawned on me that one, I should do the same because two, apparently he’d decided it was time to get the fuck out of there. As soon as we rounded the same corner Claudia had minutes earlier, I pulled my hand from his. Neither of us spoke then, and when he began to do so in the car, I silenced him with a terse ‘not now’.

The ban continued as we entered the hotel, and throughout the elevator ride. Once the room door was closed and locked behind us, I held up both hands, palms toward him.

“Tom. I’m going into the bathroom. I’m going to take this dress off. I’m going to take a shower. I’m going to try and calm down and return to some sort of quasi-rational version of myself. You are going to stay out here.” I could feel the rage bubbling up, words I shouldn’t say spilling out of my mouth. “Unless, of course, you’re planning on joining Claudia, which, FYI, I am NOT.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for that. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. I’ll be out when I’m ready.”

Once safely tucked away, I focused on each individual detail of every task. Zipper down. Dress off. Hang up the dress. Tape off. Bra off. Underwear off. Water on. Test water. Step into shower. By the time I’d dried off, I once again understood that the man on the other side of the door loved me, and that I loved him, and trusted him, and that we needed to discuss what had happened because there was a side to this story I’d yet to hear, and doing or saying or thinking anything without having that knowledge would be unreasonable. And wrong.

He was sitting on the floor, jacket and tie off, shirt unbuttoned ,back leaning up against the bottom of the bed with his knees up and his head in his hands. Hearing me pad across the carpet, he looked up at me, his forlorn expression shifting briefly to one of desire, which baffled me until I realized I was naked. Knowing that he wanted me in the midst of all this was strangely comforting, and empowering. I pulled a robe out of the top dresser drawer, wrapping it around myself as I walked to the bed and sat down, his body to the left of my own. His gaze was cast downward again, and I reached out and began rubbing the back of his neck, speaking softly.

“Will you sit with me and tell me what happened?”

He nodded, rising quickly and joining me on the mattress. His eyes met mine, and he inhaled deeply.

“I had no idea she’d be attending. I didn’t even think to ask. If I’m honest, I hadn’t given her a single thought in months, not until we watched the movie here, and even then the possibility of her turning up didn’t even cross my mind for more than a few seconds…and I pushed it away as me being paranoid. As soon as I started in on Hey Good Lookin’ I felt someone to my left, which wasn’t out of the ordinary as people had been all around me since we began playing, but the someone was incredibly close, and at first I thought you’d snuck up on me and were going to join in, but when I turned to look it was…her. And there I was, in the middle of a song, in front of everyone, and I wanted to stop and get away from her but…”

It was my turn to nod. “In front of everyone. I know that feel.”

He shook his head. “I told myself to remain professional, to keep going, and I thought if I pretended that we were filming I’d be fine. Then she…she…she kissed me in front of everyone, and I just couldn’t believe it and she just kept going and I wanted to shove her off me but that would have looked…and so I did it as normally as I could and the whole time I was hoping you were still in the bathroom but then I saw you…” He paused. “And when I started toward you she came WITH me and then the keycard and what she said…then watching you keep yourself together when I knew you were…I’m sorry. So, so sorry. If that kiss makes it online…my god. I’m sorry.”

His head was in his hands again, shoulders shaking as he wept, and I recognized that this experience had been so deeply traumatic for him that he didn’t quite realize it yet, his unconsciously focusing outwardly serving as diversion. I wrapped my arms around him and held him to my chest, stroking his hair until he quieted enough to listen. When he was able to look me in the eye again, I began to speak.

“Thank you for explaining. That’s essentially what I thought had happened, and, I’m very sorry it happened to you.” His left brow rose. “What she did was so completely inappropriate…I mean, that’s not really surprising, but…yeah. Is it okay if I go through my thought process here?”

He half-smiled. “Yes.”

“Obviously, there’s a component of jealousy. That hit me first. This beautiful woman that’s been intimate with you kissed you right in front of me, and you look amazing together, and she’s tall and blonde and skinny…and the way she presented the keycard to you made it seem like you had an arrangement, a plan in place. Most of way back here all what was going through my mind was that you’d been secretly contacting her and set this all up. But, then I reminded myself exactly who, and what, she was to you, and the jealousy turned primarily to anger, directed at her, but there was still enough jealousy left to generate some serious nastiness on my part directed at YOU. And, like I said before, I wanted to avoid that because it was likely baseless and unwarranted, the jealousy. So I showered, and I listened, and DAMN that anger is way worse now and you should probably keep that room key far the fuck away from me…” I took a deep breath. “Sheese. Again, I’m very sorry this happened to you. However you want to handle it, I’m here to help. Whatever you need, okay?”

He reached out to touch my face, letting his fingertips drag across my jaw and down my neck before grasping my hand.

“I wasn’t even thinking of anything happening to me. I was afraid of what you’d think, and…”

I entwined my fingers with his. “I know. And I appreciate that. We’ve been through some shit, my dude, and I’m a runner. Or, I was. Now…you’re more important than my internal bullshit struggles.”

A smile lit up his face, but it faded quickly, replaced with fear, then sorrow, then anger over the next several silent minutes as he stared at me. 

“Maude, all I know in this moment is that I’m finished being afraid of her. I remembered what you said back in New Orleans, our options, and…well, it’s time, I think, for her to know that what she views as having the upper hand…isn’t. Not anymore.” He ran one hand through his hair. “So. I’m going up there, and I’m going to deal with this for once, and for all. Unless you think it’s utter madness to do such a thing.”

My mouth dropped open as my brow rose. “Oh, it’s madness, alright. But I like it. Hmm…”

He laughed, then poked my collarbone softly with his finger. “Ah, a plan is afoot, is it?”

“No. A plan is a plan. Not a foot.” He groaned and covered his eyes briefly, gaze returning to meet mine as I continued. “Okay. Several things to consider here. Ideally, you’d do this alone. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Well, yes and no. Going in, absolutely. But when I visualize reaction scenarios, I am concerned that a situation might arise that would result in an unfavorable outcome.”

I snorted. “Yeah, as in her recording the entire exchange and then heavily editing it to paint you in a…a…let’s go with ‘negative light’.” He nodded. “The hotel security feed would take care of pinpointing when you entered and when you left, but everything in between is up for grabs, and that’s not acceptable. Having a witness seems warranted, but who’s the witness? Am I the witness? Does my bias preclude me from being reliable in reporting the truth?”

Tom nodded again. “Likely, yes. But you’re the only witness available who’s privy to all the details of the history involved, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to maintain any sort of confidentiality.”

This was something I had zero desire to participate in, for a multitude of reasons. It was pre-Maude, and in that aspect, none of my damn business. But since Claudia’s future actions could significantly impact my life, even if said impact was short-lived, that made it potentially my damn business. Then there was what I knew…what she’d done with him, and, far worse, what she’d done TO him. Unsettling at best, rage inducing at worst…in other words, I’d be walking into a situation wherein keeping myself in check was questionable, but of the utmost importance. And there it was, another lightbulb moment in the life and times of Maude Gallagher-soon-to-be-Hiddleston. I chuckled, and he stared at me, confused, head tilted to the side as he attempted to discern what was amusing.  
I patted his knee. “I’m just laughing at my own stupidity, because I totally forgot that I’m a member of your PR team and thus have a rather valid reason to accompany you since part of the discussion will include…PR. And it ALSO gives me a reason to behave myself. Total coup, right?”

His arms wrapped around me, kissing first one cheek, then the other. “Oh, yes. Check mate.”

“No, that’s just the check. The checkmate is me recording the whole exchange on my phone, which will be tucked in my bra. Or somewhere.”

He pulled back, eyes wide. “Isn’t this a two party state? I recall you mentioning that…”

“Yeah. It is. But that won’t stop me from leaking it if the need arises. You know, someone could steal my phone at any given moment. It’s totally possible. I’m forgetful. I leave things behind ALL THE TIME…”

“Maude, you are deliciously fiendish. And I love you so.”

“Aw, thank you, baby. And I’m a total hypocrite, because I just admitted to being willing to do what I believe she shouldn’t. Anyway…criminal prosecution for this sort of thing is very rare. She could sue, of course. But I don’t think I care. Do you care?”

“I do not.”

“Cool. Hopefully we’ll never need to use it.” I rose, both hands finger-gunning in his direction. “Let’s do this.”

He stood, tugging at the fabric of my robe. “Should you dress first, do you think?”

I glanced down at myself. “Oh. Right. This is not one of my ‘don’t fuck with me’ ensembles.”

Snorting, he began re-buttoning his shirt. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Thomas. I’m struggling to keep a firm grasp on my professionalism. Cease.”

“Firm grasp, you say?”

I pretended to not hear him and searched my travel wardrobe for something that would work, in the end opting for black leggings, a fluffy, grey, oversize turtleneck sweater and my Birkenstock boots. As I caught sight of myself in the mirror on the way out the door, I decided my choices were just the right mix of business and badassery…but a V-neck would have made hiding the phone a whole lot fucking simpler.

****************************************

There we stood, outside Panorama suite number two, me turned away from the door with my shirt lifted and bra on full display as I wedged my phone into it and hit record. Tom and I exchanged a few words, and then it was Titty Time again. I was relieved to hear the playback was nice and clear and began another session, putting a finger to my lips to let Tom know we were on the record, so to speak. He knocked loudly, then even louder when there was no immediate answer. When he paused, a clicking that could only be high heels on tile was audible, its increasing volume indicating the wearer was travelling in our direction. The door swung inward to reveal Claudia, now clad in white lingerie, a lacy bra, bikini panties, garters and filmy white stockings, all paired with the same white stilettos she’d worn to the party. She placed one hand on her hip, smirking widely.

“Well, well, well. Hello, Tom. I expected you to turn up, but not…” A thumb with a fuchsia fingernail jerked in my direction. “…her. Not exactly a pleasant surprise, but, whatever. Come on in. I’ve gotten off with my vibe three times already but I’m still SO fucking horny. Just one kiss from you, that’s all it takes…mmmm…”

Tom held up a hand, palm towards her. “Stop, Claudia. Right now. Control yourself until we’re behind closed doors, for god’s sake.”

She bit her lip. “Oh my, someone’s feeling forceful. Must be my lucky day!”

We walked in past her, and she followed after closing the door and engaging the slide-bolt lock, stopping in front of the not-so-mini mini bar to face us.

“Anyone else want a cocktail before cock?” Neither Tom nor I replied. “Well I do. I need one. Who wears a turtleneck to a threesome? Christ.”

Tom’s jaw clenched, then released as he spoke. “I’m afraid you’ve misinterpreted the reason for this visit, Claudia. Hint, it’s not for a threesome. I’m only here to have a conversation with you, one we should have had quite some time ago. Maude’s presence is due to the fact that she’s a member of my PR team, and will serve as my advisor if necessary.”

She was stunned, silent, and the fingers she’d wrapped around a bottle of rum went white with the strength of her grip. When Tom noted it didn’t appear as if she’d reply, he continued.

“I’m not going to waste my time re-hashing the past, but I will say this…I made it abundantly clear that we were done when I discovered you were secretly filming our encounters. When I also made it clear that I didn’t love you, and pointed out that I’d never given you any reason to believe our relationship was anything more than purely sexual in nature, you threatened me. You threatened to provide a detailed account of our interactions to my family and friends, you threatened to publish all of the videos you’d made online, and you threatened to ruin my career and make my life a living hell.”

She’d done several double takes during his speech, looking at me, then back at him, then back at me, as if she couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that I might be aware that something had transpired between them. She finally relinquished her hold on the rum bottle, lifting her hands in surrender. “Tom, that was…I was…I just said all that because I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

He scoffed. “Really? You didn’t mean it? Yet you accepted a million dollar payout from me?”

“I thought we had a future, Tom. Together. The money was like…alimony.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Claudia. What I want you to know is that from this day onward, you are to come nowhere near me. If for some reason we find ourselves at the same event or function, don’t approach me. Don’t speak to me. And most of all, don’t fucking TOUCH me. If you refuse to comply, I will not hesitate to file a restraining order against you.” He took two steps closer to her, his face now inches from hers. “Do you understand?” 

She didn’t respond, and he repeated the question, his tone far harsher, volume ratcheting up five notches on the dial.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Crossing her arms, she sneered at him. “You know, I still have all those videos...it would be such a shame if they went public and Maude found out what kind of person you really are…”

And there was my cue. I pulled Tom backwards and away from her, then stepped in front of him.

“Maude is acutely aware of the contents of ‘those videos’, Claudia.” Air quotes. I felt like an Office Space character for a second, and really, really wanted to tell her that if she would kindly fuck off and die that’d be great. “Opting to publish them is entirely your choice to make.”

Her laugh bordered on hysterical. “So you’re fine with ruining his career and making yourself a laughing stock? That’s cool. I’ll totally publish them then.”

I shrugged. “Be advised that there will be repercussions that will affect you personally and professionally if you choose to take such action.” She opened her mouth to speak, and I held up my hand to cut her off at the pass, my right index finger pointing up toward the ceiling. “First, since you’ll be violating the terms of the NDA you signed, a suit will be filed for breach of contract wherein we’ll be requesting both expectation and disgorgement damages. That means you’ll be on the hook for repayment of the one million dollars you received as a settlement, as well as any lost revenue Tom incurs as a result of the breach. Secondly, criminal charges will be filed under California’s Revenge Porn Law, which defines said revenge porn as the publication of nude photos or videos of a person one used to be intimate with, without their consent, with an intent to cause serious emotional distress. Each video that was filmed in the state of California would incur a penalty of a fine in the amount of $1000 and up to six months in jail…based upon Tom’s estimate as to video quantity, you’d be facing a prison sentence of up to ten years. Thirdly, and lastly, criminal charges and a civil suit will be filed for your violation of the Invasion of Privacy act. California is a ‘two party’ state when it comes to audio recordings of confidential communication in situations and locations wherein there’s a reasonable expectation of privacy. Audio that’s a component of a video is covered under this particular statute, and penalties include a fine of up to $2500 and a year in jail. Long story short, Claudia…do you want to wind up in jail? Because publishing those videos is how you wind up in jail.”

While I spoke, I’d witnessed her face first going pale, then gradually reddening until it reached a final almost-purple hue. She was shaking with rage, and I just stood there, certain she was going to attack me Dynasty lady-feud style. But she didn’t, pausing, instead to digest what I’d said as best she could and find a way around it. Her eyes, now more grey than green, narrowed as she spoke.

“My attorney will drag out your breach suit for years, and if you win, I’ll hide all my assets and file for bankruptcy and you won’t see a dime, ever. As for the rest, there’s no proof Tom never consented to filming. Same with that distress bullshit. My word against his. I’ll take those odds, and when I’m acquitted of all charges I’ll sue YOU guys for damages and take even MORE of Tom’s money.”

Raising my brow, I leaned in a little closer to her. “Tom saved all your texts and voicemails. Every. Single. One. They’re tucked away, safe and sound, on the very phone you sent them to.”

If Tom hadn’t been paying such close attention, the highball glass she picked up and threw would have hit me right in the face. He’d jerked both of us to the side, and the glass shattered when it hit the wall. With me in front of him, he propelled both of us toward the door at top speed, slid the bolt and pushed me out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him in the midst of the sound of more shattering glass and her screams of ‘get out, GET OUT’. We headed for the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, rushed back to our room, entered and locked our own door, both of us unsure as to whether we were pleased, frightened, or a bit of both.

I reached up under my sweater to pull out the phone, hitting the stop button to end the recording. Tom placed his hands on my shoulders, eyes on mine.

“Are you all right?”

Nodding, I felt my mouth twist into a half smile. “That went better than I expected, honestly.” I stood on my toes and planted a kiss on his left cheek. “Thanks for rescuing me from death by assorted beverage containers. How do you feel?” 

His eyes shifted down and to the side, then returned to my face. “Relieved. Like I’ve gotten some closure, and that I’m no longer at her mercy. The fear, the anxiety in regard to my past actions becoming public…that’s subsided significantly. But there’s trepidation present, resulting from her expression of violence towards you, which I’m not quite sure how to handle.”

I slipped my phone into his pocket as I wrapped my arms around his torso. “She just realized she’s powerless, and she was NOT happy about it. Probably best to let it go and hope she finds a new hobby. Or a good therapist. Or Jesus. Something.”

“Maude, if that would have hit you…”

“It didn’t, though. I’m fine, you’re fine, and…that was over the top, wasn’t it? Was she aiming for me? Or you? Or the wall? Wow, I’m kinda freaked out now.”

He pulled me to his chest, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry. I knew her behavior as I experienced it was abnormal, and I shouldn’t have involved you.”

I leaned back, reaching up to caress his cheek. “You realize I knew too based on your description of your experience, yes? I’m glad I went with you. She would have spun that visit in the worst way possible, Tom, if the opportunity presented itself. Now she can’t, and I’m glad for that. As for the rest…we have a plan in place if she releases the videos, and we’ll follow through with it. She knows now that you’re no longer afraid of that happening, and that you’ll fight back, and I’m thinking maybe that will take all the fun out of it for her.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “I hope that’s the case, my love. Truly I do. And I’m not going to dwell on it, because allowing her to diminish our joy is akin to giving her precisely what she wants, and she’s stolen enough already. This shop’s doors are closed. Permanently.”

“That’s an excellent way to look at it, Mr. Eternal Optimist. The doors are closed and the shop’s in the rearview as we travel the road ahead of us into our future.”

He simply stared at me, a small smile upon his face, his eyes once again full of all those things that made me both weak in the knees and disgusted with my sappy-ass self all at once. I rolled my eyes.

“Man, you’ve gotta lay off that adorable shit. We’ve got three months to go until the wedding and when you look at me like that…I just want to say fuck it and go find a judge and do it, like, right now.” Next came the tears shining, ready to spill over. “No. Oh my god, not helping, Tom. NOT. HELPING.”

He laughed. “I’m not even sorry.”

“Color me thoroughly unsurprised.”

“I’d rather color your inner thighs with love bites.”

“That can be arranged.”

Less than an hour later, we were spooning, and I felt his breathing change as he slipped into sleep. I lay nestled against him, wide awake until near dawn, trying to force myself to stop thinking about Claudia. Her actions seemed, as I reviewed the evening’s events, to indicate she hadn’t quite…let go. Far from it, actually. I wondered what she actually wanted, after so much time had passed. Was it more money? Was it revenge? Was it still…Tom? Was it all three, perhaps? And then I found myself wondering how far someone who behaved as she had tonight was willing to go in order to get it. Whatever it was she wanted. And it shook me, so I sang our wedding song to myself in my head until I calmed down, finally dozing off reminding myself that things which were terribly frightening in the dead of night were often immediately vanquished as nonsense by the light of day.


	43. Chapter 43

We departed London for LA on June 22nd, spent a single night in town, then flew out the following morning en route to Kauai. Since March, we’d divided our time between promo, work, checking in on wedding planning and enjoying London. By mid-April Manageall had reached eight thousand subscribers, and we’d outgrown both our server and office space. Phaedra and Diana had begun work on a downtown studio and gallery space they’d decided to go in on together, and they graciously upped their timeline for us so we could take over the ground floor attached to Prosper, with Prosper planning on overflowing into the basement-level by the start of 2017. There was construction to be completed by the end of summer which would upgrade both floors from open loft to more compartmentalized professional workspace, but Manageall’s infrastructure was easy to relocate upstairs and Trudy and I had become accustomed to working out in the open, as had our five employees, so we made do. A door had been put in place between my Prosper office and the Manageall area at the start of May, and the first day I stopped short and couldn’t remember which company I was doing my next task for, Luke and I sat down to discuss the best way to proceed. Prosper was growing rapidly, though not at the alarming rate Manageall was, and the deciding factor wound up being Trudy. In one scenario I had a Trudy that the company couldn’t function without, and in the other I was Trudy…so, surprisingly without hesitation, I agreed to turn the reins over, naming Trudy the Operations Manager of Manageall and keeping my own Trudy-ness with Prosper, where it was needed most. 

Early June brought exciting news in the form of Simon screeching so loudly that Tom and I actually heard it through out bedroom wall, followed by a frantic knock at our door at nine AM on a Saturday… both of their chosen embryos had successfully implanted in Lisa’s uterus. They’d harvested ten eggs in total from the surrogate so far, with eight remaining viable after being fertilized…five with Luke’s sperm and three with Simon’s. She’d waited until she was twelve weeks in to tell them, just in case, and if everything continued to progress normally December would deliver the progeny of two of my very favorite people into the world.

There’d been no new developments on that front for Tom and me as yet, and while realistically I hadn’t expected there to have been, I still found myself occasionally drowning silently in anxiety over the matter. Mainly when Simon talked baby, which was essentially every moment he wasn’t talking wedding. Which also caused anxiety. As did the coffee, which I’d begun drinking because it was really the only thing that allowed me to pull off the illusion that I was a fully conscious, functional human being when in fact I was a bundle of nerves and exhausted because said nerves were keeping me up at night. Or on flights. Like this one. Wherein Tom was out cold next to me and I was telling myself that all this worrying bullshit wasn’t doing my fertility prospects any favors. I dug in my messenger bag for my phone, checked the calendar, and realized that my period was due in ten days or so, which made blaming everything I was feeling on PMS seem like the most logical choice. My cycle so far varied between 28 and 32 days, which also was, you know, less than helpful. A heavy sigh escaped me and I felt a thunk on the back of my aisle seat, followed by Simon poking his head around to whisper loudly in my ear.

“Maude! Wedding! Happy! Heavy sighing NOT ALLOWED!”

“Dude, you are NOT the boss of me. It’s my party and I’ll sigh if I want to. Wow, that was way funnier in my head.” I craned my neck to look at him. “Simon. I’m getting married in seven days and I’m pretty sure I’m losing my motherfucking mind.”

“Six days.”

I counted on my fingers. “No, it’s seven. Today’s the 22nd.”

He shoved his own phone in my face, the home screen displaying the current date and time prominently. “Sorry, sunshine. It’s the 23rd. Six days.”

“My god, I just looked at my calendar and I swear it said the 22nd. Six. Okay then. I’m just going to go lock myself in the bathroom now. And I’m not coming out until August. Maybe September. Have someone slip me cold cuts under the door.” I sighed again, then again. “I’m a mess, Simon. Is this normal? Shouldn’t I be like Cinderella or some shit, all happy with mice or whatever? You are my wedding honor person, Simon. You’ve done this before. HELP. ME.”

The smirk on his face made me want to scream. “I love you, Maudiekins. Of course I’ll help you…but let me just take a minute or two to revel in the fact that I’m actually witnessing you admitting that you need my help, m’kay?”

“You know it’s not too late to find a replacement for you, right?”

He chuckled. “Honey, trust me…there isn’t another person walking this green earth that would take this job.” I rolled my eyes, though I knew his point was entirely valid. He reached around to take my hand. “Yes, it’s normal. You remember what I was like, don’t you? And don’t you DARE say I’m like that all the time even though I sort of am because that was way worse and you know it. It’s stressful. There’s all this pressure for it to be perfect because that moment is THE MOMENT, the one that everyone will view as a validation and valuation of how much you love each other and if it’s not perfect you mustn’t love each other enough…” I could feel my eyes widening and my chest beginning to tighten. “But what anyone else thinks DOES. NOT. MATTER. All that matters is the love you share with Sleeping Beauty there next to you. This wedding is for notifying the world that it’s forever, and that you’re so fucking thrilled about it that a massive celebration is required. Love shack, baby. You hired Melanie Hall so you could relax and enjoy the party. We’ve given her all she needs. She’s got this. So…RELAX.”

“Simon, if you don’t leap up out of your seat and start singing some Frankie Goes to Hollywood right now I’m going to be horribly disappointed.”

Pouting, he crossed his arms and leaned back. “Well now I WANT to but people are SLEEPING and it would be RUDE…thanks for NOTHING, so-called FRIEND.”

I held up my phone. “It’s going on the wedding karaoke list. Because I need to see that shit. Even more so since you’ll be wearing a purple suit. Also, thank you. I’ve been obsessing over everything lately and it’s harshed my mellow completely. And probably Melanie’s. I need to text her and apologize for checking in so often and wanting to going over the same details with her a million times…” He leaned forward again, placing one hand on either side of my head, gently guiding me to turn and look in Tom’s direction while whispering in my ear.

“Look at him. You’re marrying that man. Six days from now, he’ll be your husband him. Look, Maude. Look with your non-vampire eyes.” I snorted, readying a witty comeback, but then Tom smiled softly in his sleep and I thought of Outlander and Jamie and Claire and how I’d go back and forth in time over and over and over again until the end of everything just to see this man’s face once more, to hold him once more, to kiss him once more…and as I fought back tears Simon whispered one more sentence.

“It’ll happen for you, I know it will.”

He kissed my cheek and left me to my own devices, which included shoving my phone bag into my bag and staring at Tom while trying not to weep, overwhelmed by emotion and chastising myself for getting caught up in the little details while diminishing my joy in the process. Hopefully I hadn’t diminished any of his. Tom’s eyes flew open, and I knew he had no idea where he was or what was happening. I smiled, and he blinked several times, opening his arms to groggily wave me in for a squeeze. He got more than he bargained for, with me being unable to resist the urge to spring from my own seat and into his lap. His arms wrapped around me as he pulled me to his chest, burying his face in my hair as I rested my head on his shoulder, my legs hanging over the armrest, feet resting where my posterior had just been. We enjoyed each other in silence for a spell, until I broke it by lifting my head so we were eye to eye. I reached out, briefly caressing his jawline with my fingertips.

“I’m very sorry if I’ve been a complete killjoy lately.”

He tilted his head, puzzled. “You? I thought I’d been playing the part of the killjoy.”

“Dude, really?”

“Yes, really.”

I was genuinely puzzled, and concerned. I knew what been plaguing me, but had no idea that something had been bothering him. “Well, you haven’t, but…”

Smiling softly, he began rubbing my thigh. “Well YOU haven’t, but…”

My gaze turned downward, then rose to meet his again. “I let all the little things pile up in my mind where they grew and thrived in my brain soil and became big things and it eclipsed the amazing, wonderful things right in front of me. Little things like work and wedding planning and other people conceiving and not me and I’m glad that my stress wasn’t rubbing off on you or bringing you down but hey, what’s been on your mind?”

He grimaced, voice low so no one else could clearly hear it. “I know that back in LA I said I wasn’t going to dwell on things and I haven’t been dwelling, exactly, but that evening has crossed my mind more than a few times and I’ve been worried that it’s been worrying you, but it appears it hasn’t, and I’m very glad for that. But boy, do I ever feel like a tit for not noticing that you WERE worried about other matters.”

“Same. Same, same, same plus some more same. And honestly, I did think about it for a week or two after, but then I got so busy that I couldn’t tell my ass from a hole in the ground and it went POOF. Right now, I’m just grateful nothing has come of it, and if the universe would please hold off until after the wedding to rain fuckery down upon us, I’d deeply appreciate it. But if not, whatever. Full steam ahead. Right?”

He laughed. “Right indeed. Nothing’s going to stop this train. I liked it, and I’m gonna put a ring on it.”

“Oh my god. Tom. Single Ladies. I…I…can’t even.” I dissolved into giggles, which inevitably led to both of us laugh-crying until the first class attendant came over to ask us if we needed anything, which was a passive-aggressive way of indicating that we weren’t being the passengers Mr. Rogers knew we could be. I slithered back into my own seat, allowing Tom to be the apologist. He beamed at her, one hand over his heart.

“Terribly sorry if we disturbed anyone. I’m afraid we’re a smidge more excitable than usual as the result of our upcoming nuptials.”

She returned the smile. “Oh my! Well then, congratulations in advance. When’s the big day?”

We answered in unison, as idiots in love often do. “The 29th.”

She laughed. “Perfectly in synch. Best of luck to you both!”

As she walked back down the aisle another attendant fell into step with her and I could make out the words ‘knew they were engaged’ and ‘had no idea it was happening so soon’ and ‘wow, a Kauai wedding’. Tom and I both turned to face each other, again speaking in unison.

“Shit.”

We’d kept the date under wraps all this time, yet managed to fuck it up in the space of two minutes when we were SO CLOSE to pulling the whole thing off under the radar. Two flight attendants, not a big deal, but if they each told two people, and so on, it would likely end up on social media somewhere. Which also wasn’t a big deal, but it could absolutely clog up the works with members of the press. I sighed.

“A quote from Hackers comes to mind – ‘Where are your brains, in your ass?’ to which I would respond that I doubt it because I think they are gone, baby, GONE. Luke’s gonna take my PR card away, and I don’t blame him one bit.”

I heard his deep chuckle from behind us, then him clearing his throat before he spoke. “Oh no I won’t. Mainly because I have no desire to perform your job functions, but also because I don’t think it’s a significant problem. I figured it was practically inevitable that someone from the hotel would let it slip, but this is better, in a way, because I’m aware of the leak when it’s still a potential leak.”

It was weird having a conversation with someone I couldn’t see, so I reclined my seat all the way back, much to Simon’s displeasure. 

“Mauuuudeee you’re crushing my kneeeeesss.”

“Simon, you’d better be good or you’re going to surpass Tom and me and rocket into first place for the Most Annoying Passenger. Hmm, maybe there’s an award. You love awards!”

Luke laughed again, then kissed Simon on the cheek. “You’d best move your seat upright, Maude. We can discuss what, if anything, you want to after we land. You know how it is…if Simon’s unhappy…”

Simon chimed in, entirely too loudly. “EVERYONE IS UNHAPPY.”

As soon as I finished adjusting the seat, the flight attendant was back, asking Simon if he needed anything, and Tom and I dissolved once more into giggles, quiet giggles, that is, and when we finally sobered up he whispered in my ear.

“Don’t worry, my love. It’ll happen.” I felt his hand on my lower belly, thumb stroking up and down. “Who knows, it might already BE happening and we just don’t know it yet.”

I placed my hand over his as he rested his head on my shoulder. “Thomas, the eternal optimist. Thank you.”

He raised his head in order to place a single kiss behind my ear, then resumed snuggling. We spent the rest of the flight touching each other, even if it was just pinkies linking, and when the sunshine and warmth of Kauai connected with my skin as we disembarked, I felt like myself again. Or, rather, the self I’d re-discovered not quite twelve months ago. Grateful, and joyful. More than ready to celebrate the blessing this island had bestowed upon me…that sense of wholeness and completeness that finding someone to love who loves you back evokes. We held hands as we crossed the tarmac, then picked up our luggage, piled it into the Range Rover we’d rented, and headed for the Marriott, where friends and family would soon be joining us for what I hoped was one party of fucking epic proportions.

****************************************

We spent as much of the weekend as possible either on the beach or locked away in our room…not the honeymoon suite that had been recommended to us, but number 203, which we referred to as ‘ours’ in spite of the fact that countless strangers had stayed in it as well over the past year and would after we were gone. It was where we’d consummated our coupledom, and it was the only acceptable place to consummate our marriage as far as we were both concerned. I had my doubts that we’d make it out of Talk Story after our private ceremony – that bathroom would likely be calling my name – but Tom insisted that he’d hold out until we were back where we belonged. I figured it would be fun testing his resolve if nothing else, so I went with it. 

Sunday was our last meeting with Melanie before the actual ‘day of’, and she’d done such an incredible job that I had nothing to add. The ceremony would take place at five PM, followed by an hour of hors d'oeuvres, then a sit-down family-style dinner. Ahi Poke salad would already be on the table, and Hawaiian Saimin Soup would be offered as soon as everyone was seated. The next course, and the only additional course other than cake, was set to include Chicken Hawaiian, Hawaiian Roast Beef, Kalua Pork, blackened Mahi Mahi, and, because I couldn’t help myself, fettuccine alfredo. No one had responded that they were vegan, but a chef would be available if we need anything last-minute. We’d chosen to go with mainly regional recipes since it technically was a ‘destination wedding’, and also because it was apparently unacceptable to serve chips, dip, pizza and bacon as a meal to people who’d travelled thousands of miles to share your special day. Fortunately, those things made for perfect appetizers…the universe created pizza bagels for a reason, and that reason was for me to snack on them and probably get sauce all over my dress. The cake…my god, the cake. The shop Melanie had chosen had been working on it for weeks, planning, creating a model, ensuring it would balance properly…it made my head spin. It had been Tom’s idea, inspired by our bookish centerpieces. There would be two four-tier round cakes, alternating layers of chocolate and vanilla, iced white and decorated to take on the appearance of a ring of books, the spines hand drawn, colored and lettered. One stack would have titles from my collection, the other from Tom’s, with a bookshelf ‘bridge’ from the top of one to the other that merged our favorites. In the center of the bridge there was to be an open book mini-cake decorated with the Tree of Life on one side, our names and the date on the other, and, of course, the bride and groom topper. We’d had those 3-D printed in our likeness, and Melanie had brought them with her for us to see, a choice I’m certain she regretted because she eventually had to ask us kindly but firmly to surrender them before they were damaged by our Wedding Preview Theater playtime.

Guests began arriving Monday morning, and a steady stream continued throughout the day. Tom’s family had been first, followed by Chris and Elsa, then Ben and Sophie, Robert and Susan, and a host of other folks I didn’t technically know but felt like I did because I’d seen them on the big screen, the small screen, or Tom had shown me pictures as we came up with our guest list. There were stories to go with the pictures, of course, for which I was grateful because I could almost match names with faces. Though we hadn’t seen anything leaked online, Luke had opted to send out a press release on Saturday in order to prevent the chaos of outlets scrambling for a scoop, and according to everyone who had turned up so far it was working. The media was camped out at the airport and the hotel, but were keeping their distance, allowing those who didn’t wish to pose pass by without being cajoled and/or yelled at. Tom and I hung around in the lobby between meals in order to be accessible. Most of the few folks I’d invited were also members of the wedding party…Trudy and Veronica, who had come to say hello and gone on to unpack in their rooms already, which left me waiting on Anne. Our final fittings were scheduled for 5:30 in one of the smaller conference rooms, and it was nearly ten after when I heard her shouting from across the lobby when she spotted me.

“MAUDIE! THERE YOU ARE!”

I hadn’t seen her in person since New Orleans, though we’d Skyped a few times…and then she’d talked to Tom almost as much as she’d spoken to me. The Vampire Chronicles project had shifted from a feature film to an episodic streaming venture, which Tom was on board with, but additional writing was required and he wouldn’t be able to begin shooting until late 2017 or early 2018. I left Tom with Chris Evans and jog-walked to meet her, surprised as always at the power behind the hugs of such a slender being when she embraced me. We released each other quickly, both leaning back to inspect the other’s outfit. She shook her head.

“You’re too thin. Are you eating? Don’t let the stress get to you, kiddo.”

My eyes rolled, and I allowed my head to loll back in exasperation. “Yes, I dropped some poundage. Not because I’m not eating, that’s for fucking sure. Personally, I believe the extreme increase in my physical activity over the past year is to blame. And coffee. And yeah, maybe stress. But mostly the activity. Which I don’t plan on modifying anytime soon, thank you very much.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t if I were you, either.”

“Your endorsement is appreciated. Can we talk about the fact that you’re wearing a shirt with palm trees and coconuts printed all over it and Bermuda shorts and sandals right now? This might be the first time I’ve ever seen your legs.”

“Soon you’ll get a good look at my arms, too. And my back.” The bridesmaid dresses I’d chosen were deemed flattering by all the gals, made of silk chiffon in a gradient of green to purple from top to bottom. They were sleeveless, floor length with a semi-pleated skirt, ribbon at the waist and the neck and a cape that attached at the front throat area and hung over the left shoulder and covered most of the open back. The cape could easily be pinned to cover all of the back of the wearer chose, which I thought was important because not everyone deems going braless socially acceptable. Anne chuckled, looking down at herself, then back up at me. “I’m so pale I might have to write myself into the next book as a lost ancient. What a bonus that I’ll have pictures to work from!”

As I gazed past her shoulder I caught sight of Christopher, pulling a very full luggage dolly behind him. He waved as he drew closer, finally abandoning it to embrace me briefly.

“Maude, it’s been forever. You look beautiful. And, congratulations. Though you getting married has ramped up someone’s matchmaking efforts a hundred times over…” Anne reached out and tugged his earlobe, and he sighed. ”I’m going to just marry the first guy I see to put an end to it all, I guess.”

Tom’s voice sounded out from behind me. “So sorry, but I’m already spoken for.” He moved to stand at my side, his hand extended in greeting. “Hello, Christopher. Lovely to finally meet you.”

Christopher sighed, feigning exasperation. “The good ones are ALWAYS spoken for.” He reached out and shook Tom’s hand vigorously. “Lovely to meet you as well. Mom and I are delighted you’re still interested in stepping into the shoes of the Brat Prince. Knowing who’s portraying him has actually made it easier for us to get the scripts rolling.”

My mouth dropped open. “Wait, what? You’re BOTH working on this? Together? Writing.”

They exchanged a conspiratorial glance, then Anne grinned. “We are. It’s so much fun, especially because his style is so very different than mine, yet there are echoes…”

“Mother, the only echo is your voice throughout the house every time I try to sneak outside for a break. Seriously, Maude. She’s the most demanding boss I’ve ever had and…”

Anne cut him off, right index finger raised. “I’m the ONLY boss you’ve ever had.” As Christopher rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘see what I put up with’ in my direction, Anne stepped forward to hug Tom. “Hello there, handsome.”

He returned the hug, planting a kiss on each of her cheeks as he pulled away. She grinned up at him, and my phone beeped. I pulled it from my pocket and cleared the alarm. “We have to move it, lady, or we’ll be extra late for the fitting.”

She offered me her arm. “Let’s boogie, kiddo.” 

Tom kissed me and lingered more than a few seconds too long, clearing his throat as he backed away sheepishly. “I’ll see you at dinner, my love.”

I nodded. “Yep. You sure will.” He offered to help Christopher with the luggage, and they strode off in the opposite direction as Anne and I headed for the conference room. She poked me in the ribs.

“Maude, has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”

“Oh my god Anne, seriously? What are you, a wizard?”

“No, just incredibly perceptive. Plus, I’ve known you since you were ten.”

“Mmm hmm. God, I HATE lying to him. And I obviously suck at it. But his surprise bachelor party is tonight and I was sworn to secrecy. Of course he just HAD to say he’d see me. Fucker.” Ben had contacted me nearly two months earlier, asking if I was okay with the idea, and I’d said yes because even though Tom and I had agreed that neither of us wanted such a thing, the opportunities for all of them to be in the same place at the same time were incredibly limited, so why not take advantage of such a rare occurrence? I’d given Ben Melanie’s number, and she’d arranged everything. There’d be food, drink, and karaoke in the Makai Lounge…and I pitied the staff who’d thought it would be awesome to work the event because I had a feeling they were about to discover that it would be akin to dealing with a roomful of kindergartners who’d binged on chocolate espresso beans. The walk to the Hokulea Suite was a short one, and Simon was waiting impatiently in the doorway and wearing one of the hotel’s white terrycloth robes. 

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, future Mrs. Hiddleston. For a minute I thought you’d gotten cold feet…oh. Oh my god. Oh.”

With that, I knew he’d noticed my companion. Everyone was aware that Anne was in the bridal party, but no one had actually met her as yet. Simon, despite interacting with famous folk on a regular basis, was completely and thoroughly star struck at the sight of his favorite author in the flesh. I glanced her way, finding her smirking gleefully as Simon proceeded to lose his shit, right hand on his chest, which was heaving with excitement.

“Anne…can I call you Anne? Or do you prefer Ms. Rice? Oh my god. I’m SUCH a fan…a life-long fan…of your work and here you are and lordy I think I may die…” He began fanning his face with the hand that had previously rested upon his chest, and Anne went right in for the kill, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him, then kissing him on the cheek.

“Dearest Simon, Anne will do just fine. Maudie has told me so much about you, and goodness, I’m just the luckiest woman to have such devoted fans. Bless you for supporting my work.” He stood, blinking, as she continued. “Part of that ‘told me so much about you’ was how entertaining and hilarious you are. And petty. Let’s just say I’m very much looking forward to getting to know you myself.”

His mouth dropped open and a screechy cackle escaped him as he threw his arms around her, one finger pointing at me from behind her back. “You’ve been replaced. Anne is my new bestest friend ever.” 

I gave him a double thumbs-up. “Fucking A, man. You are EXHAUSTING.”

Faces began to appear behind him, first Trudy, then Emma, then Sarah…at which point I pushed past the new dynamic duo and entered the suite. It wasn’t huge, 24’ x 18’ or so, but it was a wide open space beyond the private bathroom and kitchen right inside the door, on the left and right respectively. It was ours for the duration of our stay and would serve as the dressing area the day of the ceremony. Two couches had been placed along the shared walls of the bathroom and kitchen, facing the rest of the room. The remainder of my bridal party leapt off of said couches and proceeded to embrace me all at once, and I’m certain the look on my face was one of sheer terror as they squealed with delight. I heard Simon’s voice as he drew closer.

“Ladies, ladies, what did we discuss earlier? The bride must be approached cautiosly, VERY cautiously. She’s anxiety ridden, easily overwhelmed and if her flight or fight kicks in we could all be in really deep shit. Back away now, and do it slowly. Don’t be distracted by the fact that Anne Rice is, like, RIGHT HERE.”

They turned away, releasing me, and I waited a beat for Simon to introduce everyone. He just stood there staring at her, enraptured, so I figured I’d best do it on my own.

“Anne, this is Trudy, Veronica, Emma and Sarah.” I wave-pointed in their direction. “You people, this is Anne. I’m going to use the restroom now. Chat away.”

The room had begun to buzz with the sounds of excited conversation as I closed the door behind me. I quickly did my business, then splashed cold water on my face, pausing to take a breath as I started at my reflection. The lighting didn’t do me any favors, and I groaned while attempting to figure out if I looked pale because of the dark circles, or if the circles looked dark because I was, in fact, pale. Veronica, who had been instrumental in the process of choosing every item of clothing worn by bridesmaids and groomsmen alike, had brought her favorite hair and makeup people along, for which I was now all kinds of glad. I leaned in closer, my nose almost touching the mirror.

“You look like you’ve been out on the town for two days straight, woman. Sleep. Look into it. Christ.”

Simon shouted unnecessarily loudly from outside the door. “MAUDE! STOP TALKING TO YOURSELF AND GET OUT HERE SO YOU CAN PUT ON THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WEDDING DRESS IN THE HISTORY OF ALL WEDDING DRESSES BECAUSE I NEED TO SEE YOU IN IT!”

I opened the door just enough to stick my hand out and flipped him off. He snorted.

“Anne, she’s being rude. Make her stop.”

Sighing, I opened the door the rest of the way and stepped back into the entry area, pretending he didn’t exist as I walked back to the open space. Seven privacy screens had been set up along the edges of the room, and I had no clue which one was mine until Veronica poked her head out from around the one furthest away and waved at me.

“Honey, come on back. My dress is good to go, so you’re up.”

On a rack against the wall behind the screen, there it was. The Dress. After discovering that such a thing as a convertible day-to-night design existed, I’d scoured the internet for weeks in search of one that didn’t look like it belonged in a Disney movie. And then, on someone’s Pinterest board, there it was. The Dress. Next was the task of determining where the image had originated from, and two reverse searches later I’d located the Israeli designer. Made of crepe and satin, it was form fitting and thigh-length with a boat-neck front and deep open V to the waist in the back. The sides were crepe, and there was a satin strip with a subtle lace overlay that ran down the front. There were no sleeves, per se, only triangular pieces of fabric that mimicked epaulets and went over the shoulder and down the sides of the back in a sort of obtuse triangle. In the front, just above the chest area, were two inverted triangle cut-outs beneath the shoulder caps, creating a futuristic geometric silhouette – straight across at the collarbone, angling in, then back out again at the breast. That, though, was the ‘night’ bit of it. The day part consisted of a lightly-pleated crepe maxi-skirt that hung to the floor with a short train in the back and a slit all the way up to the pelvic area in the front. And, it had pockets. POCKETS. I knew it was perfect the moment I saw it, I knew it would make me feel amazing, and, right now, it made me burst into tears. I wiped them off my cheeks quickly, waving Veronica away as she moved to comfort me.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just…it’s so…beautiful. And you’re beautiful for doing all this for me, and I’m marrying such a beautiful man in such a beautiful place…”

She placed a hand on my shoulder. “And YOU are beautiful, and you’re going to be BEYOND beautiful on Wednesday. Now strip for me, sweetie. Off with it all.” I snorted as I slipped out of my shorts. “Oh, and you’ll be pleased to know that I managed to find someone able to add some support to the front for you so you can be braless minus the sag AND pasties.”

I pulled my Game of Thrones T-shirt over my head and dropped it onto the floor, then undid my bra and slipped out of my shorts. “Well that’s good news. That pastie glue sucks, and hard.”

She nodded as I removed my Birkis, holding the dress out for me to step into, then helped me slip my arms through the holes. “Did it for all of the bridesmaids, too. They’re removable if need be, too. Stay still while I zip you up.”

It was a tiny zipper at the back near my waist, the rest of the dress very form-fitting and essentially holding itself in place. The support lining was much like a bathing suit, and it helped immensely. When prompted, I lifted first one foot, then the other, trying not to breathe as Veronica wiggled the maxi-skirt into place around my waist. She stepped back, one hand moving upward, fingers open and partially covering her mouth.

“You look like a princess, Maude. Royal.” 

Gazing down at myself, I snorted. “More like the Royal Princess. The cruise ship. It’s all so…white. And…vast. And WHITE. Can I get one of those awesomely loud horns to blast as I walk down the aisle?”

Frowning at me, she grasped my upper arms gently and turned me around to face the mirror. I stared at my reflection, realizing she was correct. My head snapped to the left, noting her concern as our eyes met.

“Veronica, I DO look like a princess. Absofuckingloutely I do. Princess LEIA. You know, that dress she wears at the end of A New Hope? During the medal ceremony? I mean, this is a different cut and it’s got some lace and whatever but…okay fine, it’s totally different, but she’s who came to mind when I saw myself and have I mentioned how much I loved The Force Awakens and Leia’s a GENERAL now and…yep, this needs to come of immediately because I’m going to cry again and shit…well not actually shit…”

Simon voice rang out from the other side of the screen. “For fuck’s sake, is she losing it again? No worries, me to the rescue…” He stepped into view, stunned into silence at the sight of me. Like everyone else in the bridal party except for Veronica, he’d only seen photos of my gown. A smile spread across his face, slowly, eyes shining with tears about to be shed. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, one hand lifted up to rest next to his face, his fingers splayed. 

“Maude Gallagher, you’re so beautiful I can’t even look at you. It’s like staring at the sun.” The smile morphed into an evil grin. “Tom is going to DIE. Or at least pass out. For real. Have the paramedics on standby.’

I bit my lip, sniffling in a very un-princess like manner. “This does not feel like a rescue, Simon. I guess I’ll have to rescue myself, just like LEIA.” The laugh-crying began then, leaving Veronica scrambling to wrap a disposable protective cape the make-up team typically used around me. At some point I noticed that Simon was wearing his suit…his light purple suit, just a few shades off from the official wedding purple. It was linen, the jacket sporting two white pearl buttons, three side pockets, a breast pocket with a white square perfectly folded in place, and pointed lapels. Underneath was an open-collared white dress shirt with dark purple buttons. There would be a purple bow tie the day of, but no socks to accompany his white leather shoes, which were dotted along the seams with ventilation holes. He smiled, and I wiped away my tears again, this time with the back of one hand.

“You look okay too, Simon. I guess.” His eyebrows rose, then he turned on his heel and sauntered toward his own changing area, calling back to me when he was halfway there.

“Not good, Maude. Fabulous. You meant FAB-U-LOUS.” 

I called out in return. “I love you, dumbass.”

He snorted and flipped double birds at me behind his back, which for some reason restored my emotional equilibrium. Veronica helped me into my silver gladiator sandals…they were flats, incredibly simple and lightweight, with ties that wound up to nearly reach my knees. We’d all be wearing them, since they paired well with our dresses, and were also wicked comfortable. And, awesome for dancing. I panicked again for a moment, speeding through my mental checklist to determine if I’d remembered to send the song playlist to Sammy, relieved when I could actually recall doing so weeks prior. Veronica pinched and prodded and examined me from all angles, announcing afterward that no additional alterations would be needed. She’d travelled to London once the dresses had arrived from Israel and done the initial fitting, and her skills proved to be impressive as always…right on the money, right from the start. Once I was successfully disrobed and back into my shorts and T-shirt, I padded over to sit on one of the couches and put my Birkis back on. The others were done shortly thereafter, and I’d prepared myself in advance for what I thought might happen next. Simon plopped down next to me. 

“Soooo, Miss Maude, since your betrothed is going to be out living it up tonight, we thought we’d ask if you wanted to do…you know…something. Dinner? Dessert? Dancing? All the ‘D’ things? Hmm???”

I smiled, shaking my head. “I very much appreciate the thought, and I’m going to be pissed off at myself at some point for passing up an opportunity for free food, but tonight…I’m just going to go back to my room and kinda…peace out. Put everything on pause. Reflect. Right after I finish writing the vows I should have finished months ago, that is. Or, you know, START writing them. So thank you, kind friends, but I fear I must beg off this time around.”

Simon leaned in to kiss my cheek. “It’s better to wait until the last minute. Your perspective of what you’re about to do is entirely different, fresher. And your feelings…stronger. I can’t wait to hear what your heart conjures up.” He snorted. “But hey, no pressure!”

Hugs from everyone followed, and they headed off in search of a meal while I took the stairs up to room 203. The first item of business after entering was opening the balcony doors. We’d requested lounge chairs, and the promise of staring out at the water before it got dark was going to serve as my motivation for getting the vow thing out of the way. I sat at the desk, laptop open in front of me, blank Word document ready to go…and then it occurred to me that I couldn’t print anything without a hassle, that I’d need to memorize it all anyway, and that I actually needed TWO versions of vows. As I laughed manically at my current predicament, Simon’s words popped into my head – ‘what your heart conjures up’ – and I decided fuck preparing in advance, I was just going to wing it. It might wind up being messy, long, incoherent…but it would be REAL. Which seemed important, to me, in that moment. Some things are meant to be off script. Improvised. Imperfect. Like our lives. 

I ordered in a pizza, tipped the delivery guy entirely too much, ate half of it, then settled into one of the loungers. As long as I kept the back upright I could see the ocean clearly, as well as a decent slice of the sand. Activity was minimal as it was still technically dinner time, and the sun would be going down within the hour. Other than an occasional distant shout or muffled conversation from those crossing the property near the ground floor patios below me, the sounds of the waves breaking and the birds singing were all I heard. As I breathed in the salt air, I could feel the corners of my mouth turning upward. As it grew darker, a sense of great peace washed over me. Worries faded, anxiety dissipated, and it was just…me, alone for the first time in a long while, able to view things with a logic and rationality that was often absent when my introverted self spent too much time with the humans sans a sufficient break.

Chuckling, I quoted the Dude to myself. “I can’t be worried about that shit. Life goes on, man.”

After the sun set fully, I used the bathroom, turned off all the lights in the room, then used the conveniently provided hotel matches to light the three cylindrical candles on the patio table. I’d left my phone in the room, but went back in to retrieve it just in case Tom decided to tipsy-text me. Or plain text me. I honestly didn’t know how he’d approach this time with his friends, but I was expecting him to at least have a few beers or a whiskey or two. Someone having to carry him back to the room at the end of the night was certainly within the realm of possibility. 

Once the stars came out, I lowered the back of the lounge chair enough so I could gaze upon them without craning my neck, and the next thing I knew I was being carried into a well-lit space and lowered onto the bed by a gorgeous man. I reached upward, patting his cheek sleepily.

“Tommy. You’re not s’posed to carry me over thresholds until after we’re married, ya silly.”

He grinned as he sat down next to me. “Well, after four unsuccessful attempts to rouse you, this was really my only option.”

I sat up, groaning. “Seriously? Wow. That’s crazy. I guess I really took the whole ‘peace out’ thing to heart.” His head tilted in confusion. “Oh. Right. You weren’t at the fitting. They asked me to go out tonight, but I said I was going to come back here and peace out. Mission accomplished, I guess. Did you have fun? Oh my god, WHAT is on your SHIRT?”

He was wearing a white tee, with an old fashioned ‘wanted’ poster printed on the front…his smiling face as the mug shot, with jail cell bars over the top and the word ‘CAPTURED’ emblazoned across it all. Smirking, he turned his back to me, where there was a photo from Luke and Simon’s wedding of both of us making goofy faces for the camera, the text beneath it stating ‘Perfect Match Is Perfect’.

Snorting, I poked his chest. “Well, I was all set to be mildly offended but the back is adorable…”

His lips met mine, tongue seeking entrance. He tasted faintly of whiskey, but mainly of smoky, peppery pineapple. I laughed, causing him to pull away.

“Dare I ask what’s so amusing?”

“Pineapple pizza, huh?” 

He smiled, touching a fingertip to my nose. “You’re truly missing out, you know. It’s delicious.”

“Oh, it may be…but it’s an ABOMINATION. Wrong. So very wrong.”

Licking his lips, he leaned forward so his left shoulder touched my right. “Thank you, for tonight. It was such a wonderful surprise, and I’m not sure we’ve ever all been together like this when we weren’t filming. We had a spectacular time, though I’m afraid even the guests on the top floor heard us…”

“You’re welcome. I figured it might be a once in a great while kinda thing, and Ben was so gracious when he asked that I couldn’t say no. I hated lying to you, though.”

His arms wound around me, and I reciprocated. He grinned. “I apologize unreservedly for causing you to have to do so. Perhaps an orgasm or two will somehow rectify the situation?”

My face scrunched up. “Mmm…how about six?”

He clucked his tongue at me. “Now, now. No need to be greedy.”

“It’s not greed. It’s ambition.”

“Well, that has merit. We’d best get at it, then.”

I pulled the hem of his shirt upward. “Agreed. Totally. Let’s get at it.”

Four hours, one very long shower, and barely any sleep later we were startled by the sound of someone pounding on our room door. I sat up, glancing at the clock on the night table…ten minutes after six. I turned back to Tom, who was already standing and pulling on the shorts he’d worn yesterday.

“What the actual fuck? That’s like, ridiculously loud for so early…” Tossing aside the covers, I got up and grabbed my black silk robe out of the armoire and slipped into it quickly. Tom, shirtless, beat me to the door, opening it cautiously. Standing in the hallway was Luke, his jaw set, eyes blazing, phone in hand. He pushed past Tom, then closed the door behind him.

“She did it. This morning. It’s everywhere. I wanted you to hear it from me first.” He held out his phone for Tom and me to see. He had the Daily Mail pulled up, the featured top story showing. 

FIFTY SHADES OF SEXCAPADES – Claudia Heidrich, 25, former flame of Tom Hiddleston, 35, reveals just how he managed her nights by posting DOZENS of videos of the couple online, exposing his penchant for heavy drinking, swinging, threesomes, foursomes and moresomes, public sex and BDSM just as he’s set to wed fiancé Maude Gallagher, 38, TOMORROW.


	44. Chapter 44

Blind rage washed over me, and my first instinct was to grab Luke’s phone and throw it off the balcony, as if doing so would make everything associated with it disappear as well. I could feel my eyes darting back and forth as my thoughts tried to force their way through the dense red fog, and out of the corner of my left one I caught sight of Tom falling backward into the wall, his knees buckling beneath him, and I realized that this, this singular moment in time…this was one of his greatest fears becoming reality. The anger drained from me, starting at the crown of my head and continuing until it reached the tips of my toes, quickly vanquished, and all of my focus turned to Tom, to reassuring him that everything was going to be fine. We had a plan, we were as ready as anyone could ever be, and we’d face it all, and handle it all, together.

Turning to him, I placed my hands on his shoulders and met his gaze. His pupils were dilated, his breathing much more rapid than normal. I spoke slowly and, I hoped, calmly.

“Babe. Relax. We’ve got this. It’s okay.”

He shook his head, breaking eye contact. “I don’t have this…I don’t think I have this…” 

I moved my hands from his shoulders to either side of his head and forced him to look at me. “You know what? That’s okay. You don’t need to have this. Because I’ve got this. I’ve got it for both of us. I’ve got it, and I’ve got you, and it’s okay. Full steam ahead, remember?”

He bit his lip and inhaled deeply, then exhaled, voice shaky but strong. “Nothing’s going to stop this train. I liked it, and I’m gonna put a ring on it.”

I nodded. “And wow am I regretting what I said on the plane right about now…”

Tom reached out and ran his index finger down the left side of my face, stroking slowly along my cheek, then my jaw. “Perhaps you’re a bit psychic.”

“Did you mean a bit…psychotic? Because that seems more plausible.”

He smiled, which indicated that I was free to take action. I turned back to Luke.

“Okay, assuming you’ve read the full article, what’s her angle here?”

Luke frowned, nodding. “She’s framing it as Tom bought her silence in order to maintain his impeccable reputation and avoid damage to his career but she now regrets ‘covering up for him’ and says ‘it’s time everyone knew what kind of person he truly is’. Her words.”

“Fucking seriously? That’s what she went with?”

“Correct. It first appeared on a Reddit thread she started, entitled ‘The Real Tom Hiddleston’, with links to the videos hosted at a website with an url that corresponds to the thread title. The timeframe when they were made is unspecified, so there has been speculation that infidelity may be involved, especially since she’s chosen to release them the day before the wedding. And…”

Tom interjected, his voice now strong and dripping with venom, fueled by righteous indignation. “Well of COURSE that’s exactly what she’d go with. And that will probably be the next shitstorm to hit the media, right, Luke? That I cheated on Maude? That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”

Sighing, Luke glanced down at the floor, then back up at Tom. “It’s a possibility we should prepare for, yes. Believe me, I wish it wasn’t.”

Tom stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m sorry, man. You know that wasn’t really meant for you. I’m just…I…very, very sorry.”

Luke patted his back gently. “I know. And I’m sorry. This is…it’s awful.”

I left them embracing and walked to the desk, powering up my laptop as I sat down. They both turned their head in my direction, and I stared back. “What?”

Tom released Luke and walked to my side, resting one hand on my shoulder. “Are you…are you alright?”

Shrugging, I looked up at him. “Hell no.” He bit his lip, and I smirked. “But I’m going to channel everything I’m feeling into doing what I do best. It’s showtime, baby. And I am going to CRUSH. HER.”

Luke joined us, stone-faced as he struggled to keep his anger in check.

“Maude, you shouldn’t have to do this. Not now. You shouldn’t.”

Having to maintain some modicum of professionalism in the midst of something that was so deeply personal was a hazard that came with representing friends and family, and despite us having a plan in place, we had known all along that an incident of this scale simply had to be handled by one of us. Our junior agents, though very skilled, weren’t yet ready for the scope of…well, a scandal. That’s what this had turned out to be, really. An out-and-out scandal. And we also knew that though Luke had an important part to play, I was the one that had to be cast in the leading role.

I shrugged again. “Ideally, no. I shouldn’t. But also ideally, I’ve been down this road before with other clients and know the ropes. You…haven’t and don’t. So it’s just got to be me. Pull up a chair or sit on the desk, fellas. The clock is ticking, and we need to hustle.”

Luke dragged one of the wing-backs over and sat facing me, Tom opted to squat down at my side. I took a deep breath, then began.

“Okay. I considered addressing all our guests first, but I think that ship may have sailed…and we really can’t spare the time to do it properly now. So we’ll save explanations for after if they’re needed. Luke, I know we planned on distributing press releases immediately, but let’s hold off.”

His left eyebrow rose, then both brows furrowed as he pondered what other avenue we could possibly utilize. “I want to question that, but intuition tells me to zip it and listen up.”

“Wise choice, sir.” He chuckled, as did I. “Here’s what I want you to do…talk to the business reservations manager, tell her we need a conference room or some other indoor space for 9 AM. It shouldn’t be a problem because they didn’t book any other events this week other than ours. Once you have a location, go outside. I’m sure the media coverage has multiplied by a factor of ten this morning…advise each and every outlet that we’ll be holding a closed press conference at 9:10.”

Neither of them commented, though Tom swallowed hard and Luke’s lips were pressed together with such force they’d lost their typical pinkish hue.

“Yes, I’m aware that sounds terrifying. But. BUT. It’s really a golden opportunity. Instead of just written statements, we’ll be able to speak, and there will be video and stills. They’ll have an opportunity to ask questions, so we can dispel rumors immediately. And, I’m going to give them an incentive. If, and only if, they run the story within an hour after the close of the conference and agree to leave us alone for the rest of today and all day tomorrow, they’ll be admitted to a fifteen minute post-ceremony, pre-reception photo opportunity. Just the two of us, in a location to be determined.” I turned to Tom. “If you’re okay with us pimping ourselves out on our wedding day, that is.”

“If you think it will afford us and our guests’ privacy and peace, yes, I am.”

“They’ll be getting two exclusives, and I’ll throw in that we won’t post anything to social media until the weekend, so that should seal the deal.” I frowned. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not something either of us would typically consider doing…”

He stood up, then sat on the desk next to my laptop, taking my hand in his and then kissing it. “Don’t you dare apologize, not for any of this. All the fault is mine, Maude. Thank you for finding us a way through this.”

I squeezed his hand. “You’re welcome.” Shifting in my seat, I rotated to face Luke. “I’ve got all the documents I need, so I’m going to start uploading them. Will you go hit the press? Not, like, hit them hit them. Not yet, anyway. You know what I mean. I’ll go over everything with Tom that he needs to cover in the interim. I think I just want you do corral the media and get their info, do the briefing, then introduce Tom, if that works.”

Luke nodded, rising to his feet quickly. “It does. I’ll go see what we’re dealing with so I can give you an idea of what to expect. Be back as soon as I can.”

As the door closed Tom released my hand, stood up once again, then walked around the desk and eased into the wingback next to me. A small smile appeared across his face, but the shine to his eyes told a different story…Tom’s default reaction to being afraid. Tears. I leaned forward, placing my hands on his knees as I met his gaze.

“All you’re going to have to do is read what I write for you. We’re going to do that right now, together. Your side, the facts. You will NOT be taking any questions. You finish your statement, and then I take over. That’s all. I know it’s awful, but it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”

He bit his lip, eyes turning downward to stare at the pattern on the carpet for a good thirty seconds, breathing slowly in an effort to calm down. Finally, his eyes returned to mine and he nodded. “Okay. Thank you. You’ll be there, I can do this. I can do this.”

I stood, then bent forward to embrace him. He buried his face in my neck, and we remained as such, silently connecting, until I forced myself to let go and get to work. We’d been given a chance to get out ahead of this, and I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers, no matter how much I just wanted to hold him until everything else just faded away.

***************************************

Tom and I stood outside the Chart Room, waiting for everyone to be seated. At least 30 outlets were expected, and Luke had chosen this particular space not just for its square footage…it possessed two entrances, one of them on the main hotel drive, the other from inside the hotel itself, which made it possible to allow the press access to us, but not the hotel or its guests. The door we’d be entering was closed, and would remain so until Luke texted us before he began to speak to the crowd. I was wearing a black cotton tank dress, and Tom had donned black jeans and a long-sleeved white button down. When preparing his statement, I remembered what he’d said back in March in LA when confronting Claudia and sought the recording I’d made to transcribe it. That, along with a few additions, made for a brief but impactful description of what had actually occurred…and, unlike Claudia’s version, we had proof to back it up. My phone dinged, and I looked up at Tom, took a deep breath and opened the door. We walked slowly toward the podium as Luke greeted the media and walked them through what to expect.

“Welcome. Please pause or stop any recording devices you have active at this time.” He waited for thirty seconds, then resumed. “I expect all of you to conduct yourselves in a professional manner and to refrain from interrupting prior to the question and answer portion of the conference. As we discussed earlier, this is a closed press conference, which means you may not broadcast any material live. While I accept that you may choose otherwise, I’d like to encourage you to be respectful to both Mr. Hiddleston and Ms. Gallagher when publishing articles relating to the situation at hand. Mr. Hiddleston will be making a statement, then Ms. Gallager, Prosper’s Social Media Director, will provide you with additional details pertaining to the matter. She will also be answering your questions. You are permitted to record and publish material from only Mr. Hiddleston’s statement, Ms. Gallagher’s formal statement, and the Q & A. There will be an off the record briefing prior to Ms. Gallagher’s formal statement, and she will advise you when you may resume recording.” He turned his head toward us, then stepped back, waving Tom in to take his place.

Tom felt uncomfortable with the idea reading what he planned to say, so he’d spent an hour memorizing it, though I’d insisted he bring my tablet along with the text readily available just in case. He set it down on the podium, adjusted the microphone, cleared this throat, and began.

“Good morning. Thank you for being here on such short notice. I very much appreciate your willingness to listen to my perspective and allow me to address the claims Ms. Heidrich has made. I met Ms. Heidrich towards the end of 2014. She was an extra on the set of I Saw the Light, and shortly after the director opted to cast her in a minor role, we began a sexual relationship. During filming, we did frequent sex clubs and engaged in what would certainly be considered non-traditional activities with other consenting adults. Ms. Heidrich and I also hosted other couples with similar interests privately, typically in my hotel room. Once the shoot ended, I travelled back to California with her, where we continued our sexual relationship until I discovered that she had been recording video and audio of our encounters with neither my knowledge nor permission. At that time, I made it abundantly clear that her having done so eroded all trust between us and as a result I no longer wished to be involved with her in any capacity. She expressed regret and, for the first time, indicated her perception of our relationship was that we were romantically involved, which differed from my own. I explained that regardless of how either of us felt, my decision to separate stood and I asked her to leave my hotel room. After her departure, I opted to return to London immediately, and before my plane even landed Ms. Heidrich had begun to harass me via phone and text messages. When I did not reply to those messages, they escalated from excuses and apologies to threats. She threatened to provide a detailed account of our interactions to my family and friends, she threatened to publish all of the videos she’d made online, and she threatened to ruin my career and make my life a living hell. It was at that point when I realized I’d found myself in a situation I wasn’t equipped to handle on my own and alerted my PR team, who called in legal representation. In an effort to stop the harassment, as well as to protect my family, my friends, and the various studios and organizations I represent and am associated with from the negative attention and potential loss of income that often results from the public revelation of personal, private matters, my team suggested that I enter into a non-disclosure agreement with Ms. Heidrich, and I willingly consented to doing so. I had neither seen nor heard from her until March of this year, when she attended the after party of the I Saw the Light Los Angeles premiere. Ms. Heidrich, without invitation, joined me on stage during a musical performance, and when the song finished she kissed me on the lips in front of my friends, colleagues and my fiancée. She then handed me a key to her hotel room and invited both me and my fiancée to join her for a tryst. It was, as you’d expect, mortifying, and though it was difficult to maintain any degree of professionalism, we managed to exit the party shortly after Ms. Heidrich did without drawing any undue attention to ourselves. I decided to use the opportunity to confront her face to face, so, with Ms. Gallagher as my witness, I did just that. I reiterated what I’d said to her when we initially parted ways, then told her in no uncertain terms that she was to never approach me in public or private ever again, and that if she did, I’d file a restraining order against her. Her response was to bring up the videos she’d made, first threatening that she’d publish them to embarrass my fiancée, whom she thought was not aware of their existence. When it was revealed that wasn’t the case, she then indicated that she would indeed publish them anyway. After Ms. Gallagher explained the actions that would be taken if any material was published, Ms. Heidrich responded by claiming she’d take action of her own, but when informed evidence existed which would prevent her from being victorious in that particular endeavor, she threw a highball glass at Ms. Gallagher. The object would have without a doubt hit her in the face if I had not pulled her out of the way. We then exited and returned to our own room, and decided to hope for the best…that Ms. Heidrich would finally move on. Today’s development is far from that ‘best’ we were hoping for, though not entirely unexpected. The timing is obviously intended to do the most harm…but rest assured it will not interfere in any way with our upcoming nuptials.”

I sighed, grateful that he’d made it all the way through, with the exception of the closing where he’d turn things over to me. A few seconds passed, and I thought he’d froze, but as he cleared his throat I sighed once more in relief.

“As a public figure, I have the opportunity to speak to a wider audience, and in this moment, I feel compelled to use my voice to draw attention to something that affects so many all around the world. Though I wasn’t aware of it at the time, during the second half of 2014 I was exhibiting symptoms of clinical depression, and I began self-medicating with alcohol to the point where I’d frequently black out. The behavior I exhibited during that time period was not typical, for me or of me. I don’t say that as an excuse, because I take full responsibility for my actions. I say it because I wish I’d been more informed about the symptoms of depression, I wish I hadn’t dismissed my feelings, and, most of all, I wish I had sought the help I needed sooner as opposed to later. There’s a stigma, a shame, still linked to any type of mental illness…one I didn’t even know I held fast to within myself. My own ignorance had a significant impact on my life, and what I wish to say is…if you’re feeling overwhelmed, less-than, grief-stricken, lost, angry, alone, anything that’s so powerful that it hinders you, who you are, who you try to be…tell someone. Make the call. Make an appointment. Get the help you need. There should be no shame in it…if you injured your body, you’d go to A&E. If your mind, your soul is injured…they deserve the same care and healing, do they not? Therapy helped bring me back from a very dark place, and taught me how to solve problems instead of trying to avoid them, or bury them. Without it, I don’t think I’d be here today, standing in front of you, about to stand tomorrow before gods and humanity and declare my undying love for and celebrate my commitment to the most amazing human being I’ve ever been blessed to encounter in this life.” He wiped away a tear from his cheek. “It’s okay to ask for help. It’s something we all need at some point in our lives, and it’s nothing anyone should ever be embarrassed by, or ashamed of. Thank you, again, for being here.”

He left my tablet at the podium as I’d requested, turning toward me, and it took everything I had to not break protocol and embrace him. Instead, I met his gaze and mouthed the words ‘I love you’ as he brushed against me on his way to Luke, and then both of them exited via the side door we’d entered by. We’d agreed he wouldn’t stick around for the rest, not only for his sake, but for mine as well. I needed to be in full on don’t fuck with this bitch mode, which would have likely been impossible if I knew he was there listening, and hurting. I stepped behind the podium, clicked my tablet out of sleep mode, and saw that Tom had used a drawing app to scrawl a note for me.

Your words are your scepter. They will all kneel before you. I love you. – T

I was unable to suppress my grin, so I used it as an ice-breaker.

“Man, I don’t recall sending any of you an invitation. This might be a Guinness world record for the most crashers at a single wedding.” They laughed, and I could feel that switch within me flip. “Before you begin barraging me with ridiculously intrusive questions, we’re going to play let’s make a deal. Ready? Here’s the deal. If, and only if, you run with this story within an hour after I’m done speaking AND you agree to leave us – Tom, me, our guests, the hotel staff, everyone involved – alone for the rest of today and all day tomorrow, you will be admitted to a fifteen minute photo and video session with Tom and me immediately after the ceremony and prior to the reception. The location will be emailed to you upon confirmation that the story was published before the deadline. And trust me, I’m going to check. Repeatedly. Because I want this everywhere. Like, right now. I’ll be sharing our path forward, I have information and supporting documentation and other goodies all of which only be available to YOU for distribution. Granted, there are a lot of you…but wow, what an incentive to be the, you know, first, am I right?”

More laughter, which I silenced by holding up my right hand briefly. “Don’t get too excited, because I’m not saying another word until you agree to the terms. Get this story out there within an hour, leave us in peace for the rest of today and all day tomorrow, and you get exclusive wedding couple coverage. We’re even going to hold off on posting to social media accounts until the weekend. So. If you don’t agree, please exit immediately. Remaining will be considered consent, and allow me to reiterate that I. WILL. BE. WATCHING. YOU. Also, permission is now granted to resume recording.”

I counted to thirty, and everyone remained right where they were, fiddling with their devices. “Mr. Hiddleston provided you with a brief summary of his relationship with Ms. Hedrich, and at this time I’d like to expand upon several points as they relate directly to our intentions in regard to her actions. It’s important to note that Mr. Hiddleston entered into an NDA with Ms. Heidrich on the advice of his PR and legal representation, and that his concern was not for himself, but instead for those around him. His team, though, was absolutely concerned about him…not only his reputation, which they were hired to protect, but for his safety and emotional well-being. Not only had he just discovered that his privacy had been violated by someone he trusted, he was in the midst of enduring a campaign of harassment and threats as a result of ceasing contact with the violator. Over the course of three days, Ms. Heidrich sent numerous text messages and called his cell phone two-hundred and sixteen times, leaving fifty three messages, each more bizarre than the last. She threatened to kill herself, contact his family, and publish the videos she’d filmed without his knowledge or consent on the internet. Mr. Hiddleston has in his possession the phone he’d been using during this time, on which all voicemails and texts remain in their original, unaltered state. I’ve captured screenshots and audio of a few, which you’ll be able to access with a link contained in an email you’ll be sent at the end of this conference.”

That got their attention like nothing else had as yet, and the room began buzzing with indecipherable murmuring, and I could feel myself begin to feed off their energy as I continued.

“You will also be able to access the non-disclosure agreement itself, which is obviously no longer valid as Ms. Heidrich has violated the terms contained within it. Quite spectacularly, if I may add. And, as you’ll soon see in the draft copies I’ve included for your perusal, she refused to sign on the dotted line until the settlement sum reached one million dollars.” Gasps and low whistles replaced the murmurs.

“Which brings me to…what’s next. Unfortunately, Mr. Hiddleston’s legal representation back in 2014 was not aware that what Ms. Heidrich was threatening to do was considered revenge porn, which is against the law in California and Louisiana, the states in which the videos were filmed. Had that not been the case, Mr. Hiddleston would likely not have had to enter into an NDA, nor paid out any sum in order to keep Ms. Heidrich in check, as the threat of jail time is often incredibly persuasive in and of itself. Now that she’s published the material she was contractually obligated to NOT publish, we will take action against her. In fact, this process has already begun. The hosting service she chose to use has taken down the website she created and moved all the content that was uploaded to a secure server. By their count, said content consists of 37 mp4 files. Reddit has agreed to remove the thread she opened after they’ve completed archiving all the posts and replies. Data from both will be retained for later use, as Mr. Hiddleston has opted to pursue criminal charges against Ms. Heidrich under both the revenge porn and invasion of privacy statues, and to file a civil suit as well for breach of contract. Be advised that the terms of the NDA were very clear and that Ms. Heidrich is now required to return the settlement compensation she received. All monies received by Mr. Hiddleston as restitution will be donated to a charity of his choosing. We anticipate having everything in motion by the end of next week.”

I paused, scanning the room, gauging whether or not I should ‘go personal’ again, as I had during my let’s make a deal segment. I knew they wanted me to…they always want that, the realness, evidence of emotional investment and, hopefully, pain. It’s what generates the most clicks. And then I remembered what Tom had written…and personal went right out the fucking window and I dove headfirst in the fray.

“Okay. Questions. Try to be concise so we can fit as many in as possible. One per outlet maximum. And when I say done, we’re done.” Hands rose in a wave. “Daily Mail. You’re at the top of my naughty list today, so let’s get your query out of the way first.”

There was snickering, but the woman stood, undeterred. “How long have you known about the videos? Have you watched them?”

I gave her the Frank Underwood sipping a beverage glare of disgust. “That’s two questions. Next time put an ‘and’ in between them and perhaps your inability to follow the rules won’t be quite as obvious. Tom and I first discussed his relationship with Claudia a few weeks after we met. And no, I haven’t watched them. Have you?”

Her cheeks reddened as she sat down quickly. Ah, another opportunity for a Loki-esque smirk.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then. TMZ, go.”

A man with long dark hair in a well-worn Ramones shirt rose quickly from his chair. “Ms. Heidrich mentioned the premiere and hotel meeting on the Reddit thread, and according to her she and Tom spent the night together…you were all staying at the same property, and he went upstairs to her suite after you fell asleep, then snuck back in before you woke. AKA, he cheated on you and you had no clue. Tom’s version of events is completely different. Which one is the truth?”

“There’s a reason why Tom didn’t go up to her hotel room alone…and it’s precisely because it was a perfect set up. Cameras all over the property, right outside the room to get him coming and going but leaving everything in between up in the air in order to craft a he-said, she-said scenario to which there’d be no concrete resolution. Which is why I recorded audio of the exchange in its entirety on my phone and, during the checkout process back in March, requested that the hotel retain a full 24 hours of surveillance covering both our room entrance as well as Claudia’s. Oh, right. I didn’t answer your question. Sorry. Tom’s version is the truth. Next, Sun.”

“Maria Fontaine, Ms. Gallagher. So you’re saying a recording of the exchange exists…will you be releasing that?” Her dark blonde eyebrows rose above the black rectangular frames of her glasses.

“I hadn’t planned on it, but the file just needs to be uploaded to the location of all the rest of the materials available to you. So, yes.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held it up. “The original is still right here, safe and sound and timestamped.”

As I slipped it back in, a stringer from the Hollywood Reporter, one I recognized from previous conferences, jumped up and blurted out his question. “Was Ms. Heidrich made aware that you were recording her?”

I snorted. “I’m going to have to subtract a hundred points for not waiting your turn but wow, you’re quick on the uptake today, Cody. No. She was not made aware that she was being recorded. Yes, California is a two party state and I fully understand that I may be subject to criminal and civil penalties as a result of my negligence to do so. E! News, you’re up.”

Rising slowly from her seat and smoothing her black and white chevron printed dress along the way, a woman with black hair to her waist and dark red lipstick titled her head at me as she placed one hand on her hip. “Since you haven’t seen them, how can you be sure that none of the videos were filmed after you met Tom? Maybe he was actually cheating with her, if not that night in LA, then some other time?”

That took my mind in an unpleasant direction, even though I knew there wasn’t a shred of truth to it. “Well, the best way to analyze them is by evaluating his hair style, coloring, and body type. In order to play the role of Hank, Tom lost a significant amount of weight and dyed his hair dark brown. We met in June of 2015, right after he completed filming for the Night Manager, for which he bulked up, adding a great deal of muscle mass and definition. His hair was also shorter, and lighter. The difference should be glaringly apparent.” From the look on red lipstick’s face, I could tell she was super disappointed that her question hadn’t pushed me over the edge and into boo-hoo personal territory, but it did make me reflect on the very first question I’d received. The fact began to sink in that though I hadn’t seen the videos, a vast number of people HAD viewed them, and would continue to do so unto perpetuity now that they were in the wild. Folks everywhere were watching my very soon to be husband having sex. With people who weren’t me. Seeing him in the most intimate situations possible, receiving a torrid glimpse into what likely happened when he and I were behind closed doors. And probably getting off on it. My heart began to pound and I was accosted by a mild wave of nausea, at which point I knew I needed to shut the conference down, and quickly.

“Two more questions. Hollywood Life, your turn.” I was stunned they had a body present…their normal modus operandi was to make shit up. Said body was female, and, if I had to guess, an intern. Her gum cracked as she spoke.

“Aren’t you concerned about being with someone who’s had so many sex partners? Has Tom been treated for any STIs?”

Resisting the urge to flip her off was tantamount to not scratching a bug bite. “Ah, there are the ridiculously intrusive questions I was waiting for. Also, are you serious right now? Neither of those are anyone’s business. Take that judgmental bullshit down the road. And if I see you’ve posted anything at all about either, now or somewhere down the line, you’ll be hearing from me. You may think that’s preferable to hearing from my attorney, but trust me…it isn’t.” Her eyes were huge, and she sat down in slow motion.

“Last question. Radar Online.”

Their reporter hadn’t even bothered to take of his sunglasses. “Will the wedding be postponed?”

I leaned forward, jaw having dropped open at his idiocy…but, thankfully, I realized only Tom had addressed that particular issue on the record and this dude wanted something from my lips he could actually use. “The wedding will proceed as planned, and we’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves with our friends and family. Like people who fall in love and get married do every day all over the globe. But with more Marvel character actors. Probably. Thanks for coming, everyone. Emails should be sent out within the next fifteen minutes for you.”

There were shouts, which I ignored as I grabbed my tablet and headed for the side door. Blocking my path was a man about my age, maybe a little older, perhaps mid-40’s, wearing a black t-shirt, chili-pepper print Bermuda shorts and black plastic flip-flops. His hair was light brown, up in a bun, and he sported a goatee flecked with grey. My stomach was roiling, and I was just about to shove him when I thought better of it, using my words instead.

“Can I help you with something?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Listen, I know you just want to jet and I’m really sorry to bother you, but I freelance for a lot of outlets, some of which are actually, you know, reputable. The New York Times has been asking me to do a story on something tech within the entertainment industry, and I was wondering if you’d agree to sitting down for an interview about your app. I saw it on someone’s phone last week, and downloaded it myself, and it’s incredible. Like, life changing incredible. Your marketing has been targeted mainly at studios and actors and PR, but it should be wider. Way wider. I’m Chad Morrison. Here’s my card, call me if you’re interested when things settle down. Best wishes to you and Tom.”

I accepted the shiny paper rectangle, trying my best to not puke on his feet. “Wow, thank you. I will. Thanks again.”

He stepped aside and I hurried out into the hall, passed by Tom and Luke, and darted to the restroom just down the corridor. I could hear Tom calling my name, but I was too preoccupied with barfing into the sink to answer. The door creaked open as I was on heave number five, nothing coming up by then other than what I was sure would be my innards. I saw his reflection in the mirror, and he gathered my hair into one hand, holding it back from my face, then began to rub my back gently with the other. I heaved twice more, and…that was that. Tom passed me a stack of paper towels, and I washed my hands and face, then turned around, my eyes meeting his, which were full of concern. I smiled meekly.

“Sorry about that. Also, welcome to the ladies’ room.”

He frowned, taking my hands in his. “Are you alright? We listened, and…”

“Dude, you weren’t supposed to listen. It went fine, I just…it kinda slammed me, the idea that the masses are watching you fucking someone who isn’t me. But I think I’m over it already. Water under the bridge. Digestive fluids down the drain. And I probably should have had breakfast. Coffee is not breakfast.”

He pulled me into an embrace, stroking my hair as he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

I leaned back to look at him again. “It’s okay. Sometimes when I get overwhelmed I throw up. Like a two year old after a crying fit. Or something. I feel fine now, though. Actually, I’m hungry. Which is weird because christ, that was gross. Let me make sure the sink is clean before we leave.”

He kissed my temple, released me, then checked the sink himself. “It’s fine. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Yep. My brain decided that the solution to my problem was to realize that while there may be lots of people seeing you do the deed, I’m the one who gets to actually DO the deed with you, from this day forward forever and ever amen, so I win.”

“Your logic never fails to amaze me.” Reaching out, he took my chin in his hand. “I’m still very, very sorry. Thank you for standing there and handling it all.”

“Well, I’m a little disappointed that they all didn’t kneel before me.”

He laughed, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose. “Only because they were sitting, my love.” He released my chin and grasped my hand instead.

“True. It’s like too lazy to get off the floor kneeling. Totally acceptable.” I sobered, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “what you said, your improvisation…that was…it was beautiful, and very, very brave, and I’m so proud of you, Tom. And also ridiculously, totally, completely in love with you.”

A big, beautiful smile spread across his face. “Same, Maude. Same. And thank you. It’s been in the back of my mind for quite some time, but it never seemed right until that moment. If it helps even just one person, it’s worth it. Plus, if the world’s going to know I’m not perfect, they should know just how imperfect I truly am.”

“Thomas, I’m going to have to go ahead and disagree with you there. You are TOTALLY perfect.”

He laughed, a full on three gear ehehehehe. “Come on, then. Let’s get you fed.” He held the door for me, and we walked back to join Luke, and Simon, who’d arrived in our absence.

“Lets. I have one file to upload, then the first email can go out. By the time we’re done eating, the story should be spreading like wildfire. And after I send the invitations, this is going to be Luke’s problem until after the weekend unless it’s absolutely necessary for us to get involved. Right, Luke?”

Luke glanced at Tom, silently inquiring as to whether or not I was okay. Tom nodded, and Luke sighed with relief.

“Sure thing, Maude.”

Simon pointed at me. “Whatever Bridezilla wants, Bridezilla gets.”

I pointed back. “And don’t you fucking forget it, mister.”


End file.
